


The Palimpsest

by leoba



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Library, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Darcy and Nick are librarians, Everyone works at a university, F/M, Frigga is not related to either of them, Loki and Thor Are Not Related, Loki is an Americanist, M/M, Magic, Medieval Manuscripts, Mystery, academic au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-11-15
Updated: 2015-02-15
Packaged: 2018-02-25 08:07:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 24,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2614487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leoba/pseuds/leoba
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Palimpsest: a manuscript or piece of writing material on which the original writing has been effaced to make room for later writing but of which traces remain. Something reused or altered but still bearing visible traces of its earlier form.</em>
</p><p>On hiatus until Unmarked is finished.</p><p>All human AU set at Culver University and other random places. </p><p>While interning with Jane Foster in the physics department at Culver, Darcy met Dr. Nick Fury, the head of the Rare Books Department at Culver University Library. One MSLS, several years, and one painful break-up later, Darcy is content working for Nick in the library, managing a cutting-edge consultation program that allows her to work closely with her friends in engineering. Things are going well, until a new manuscript shows up and things get really weird really fast. The manuscript disappears, but not before she discovers that it holds a secret - one that touches everything and everyone she holds dear. She needs to figure out what the manuscript is, what it's for, and what if anything she can do about it. She also needs to decide who, if anyone, she can trust as she she unravels the mystery - before it unravels her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This plot bunny has been hopping around in my brain for ages (like, years). I have never written anything of substance, aside from academic writing, so this fiction thing is new to me. I have been going back and forth between making this a fan fic vs. inventing my own characters, but every time I start planning, the Avengers/Thor characters take over. So, here we are. 
> 
> This is very AU. The most important thing to know is that Loki and Thor aren't related, although their relationship will be similar to the one they have in the movies. Frigga will show up, under the name "Freda Barker" (according to the Marvel Universe Wiki, this is an alias she had in the comics - I have not read the comics, I am going by the movies and what I have read in fan fic). Everyone except Nick is a bit older - the events in this story happen about 10 years after Darcy interns for Jane, so Darcy is in her early 30s and Jane is in her late 30s/early 40s. Darcy works for Nick, and Nick is the head of rare books in a library. Gosh, that makes me giggle. I think he'll be good at it, though. (Nick is about 50) There is magic, sort of, but no Asgard.
> 
> Although I know the plot for this story, I have no idea what the tone will be. I hope the characters will lead me. It will likely be technical and dry. But I am excited about trying this out. Encouragement and constructive criticism are most welcome. 
> 
> Let's get this show on the road!

At 7:32pm on Friday night, Darcy Lewis' cell phone buzzed.

She was in her office on the fourth floor of the East Wing of the Culver University Library, seated at her desk. She'd been there for hours, alternately troubleshooting a thorny issue with some code and checking Facebook. She didn't realize how late it was until she picked up her phone and noticed one, the time, and two, that it was Jane Foster calling her. Jane... Jane... as Darcy's brain moved from code mode to real life mode, she had an uncomfortable feeling that she had forgotten something, and that she was supposed to be somewhere right now, probably somewhere with Jane.

Darcy pressed "accept" on the phone and "Heyyy..." she drew out her greeting as she wracked her brain.

"Darcy, where are you? You were supposed to be here fifteen minutes ago." Jane sounded annoyed. Darcy still wasn't sure where "here" was, and as she didn't want Jane to know she'd forgotten ... whatever it was she'd forgotten, she played for time.

"Fuck it, I'm sorry Jane. I was just on my way out when something came up, you know how it is, always another fire to put out" she rambled as she quickly saved the file and closed her laptop, grabbed her coat and scarf off the spare chair, and paused, scanning the room for her beanie. She could hear laughter through the phone. Laughter was suspect. Her eyes narrowed. "Jane, is that Thor? Why is he laughing?" Jane no longer sounded annoyed. She sounded amused. "Darcy, we weren't supposed to meet until 8. The Underground? Brews and darts? We were just walking by the library and saw your office light was on, so we thought we'd call and see if you want to walk over with us. Glad I did, or you probably would have forgotten all about us."

Darcy walked over to her window. Peering down she could see three figures standing under one of the lamps that dot the quad below, waving their arms in exaggerated arcs. The slight outline of her former boss and close friend Jane Foster was recognizable, even wrapped in winter wear, alongside the much taller and broader outline of Jane's husband, Thor Odinson, and with them ... Loki Laufeyson. Darcy's brain skipped at the sight of his tall, slender outline. He wasn't wearing a heavy coat, or a hat, just an open trenchcoat and a scarf draped over his neck, even though it couldn't be more than forty degrees out there. _Fucking show-off_ , Darcy thought to herself.

Darcy didn't dislike Loki, she really didn't. He was smart, he was a decent colleague and he seemed be good at his job. And although his background was in early American history, he seemed to be pretty knowledgeable about medieval manuscripts (not that she talked to him much, about anything, if she could help it), which helped her disposition towards him in some way she didn't really understand. But he was... well, he was weird. Weirdly formal, and often not very nice (although he was always nice to _her_ , which she found offputting, especially when he was insulting Thor with the next breath. Which he did, frequently). That said, he was physically attractive. She could admit that. She could, right? Tall, slender but not skinny, almost graceful, always well put-together, even his shoulder-length black hair was consistently tousled in a way that seemed purposefully artful. It was fine that he was attractive, and it was fine that she recognized that he was attractive. What really bothered Darcy, however, was that _he_ was very obviously attracted to _her_. It made her uncomfortable, because she didn't know what to do with it. She wasn't _ready_ , she couldn't imagine being ready (for anybody, let alone Loki), so what was the point of it? And Jane, well-meaning Jane, Jane just didn't get it. Jane probably thought she was being helpful, inviting Loki along.

Darcy waved back at her friends. "Jane, why did you invite Loki?" "Darcy, how long do you think it will take you to get out here? It's pretty cold." _Of course she won't answer the question_. Darcy sighed. "I'll be out in a minute, okay?" She heard Thor's voice in the background, and Jane said, "It looks like Nick's office light is on too. Can you invite him along?" Darcy turned around in place, shrugging on her coat while still searching for her beanie. "I will, Jane, but you know he'll just say no."

"I know, but do it anyway. He needs to get out more."

"He needs to get out _at all_. Seriously, I don't think he has a social life. And that's rich, coming from me."

Darcy disconnected the call, spotted her beanie under a stack of photocopied articles, grabbed it and her messenger bag, and headed out, pulling the office door shut behind her. She glanced towards the end of the hall and saw that, indeed, the door of Nick Fury's office was open a crack, and light from the room shown a narrow beam into the hallway. Darcy quickly closed the space between her door and his, and poked her head across the threshold to see the Head of Rare Books at the Culver University Library with his back to the door, his tall body clad in a black turtleneck, trousers, and shiny black leather boots, bent over a large tome laid out on the large table in the center of the wood-paneled room. Darcy recognized the book as a 15th century breviary from Northern Germany, recently purchased at auction thanks to the generosity of one of Dr. Fury's deep-pocketed donors. Seriously, the man had a talent for growing the collection.

Dr. Nicholas Fury was an enigma as far as Darcy Lewis was concerned. She'd known him for almost ten years, and he was a great boss, so supportive it was almost embarrassing, but she still didn't feel as though she _knew_ him. Sure, she knew his academic brain, inside and out. But as a person, she wasn't sure she knew him at all. She didn't know anything about his background aside from academics, and she didn't know about his family - she had never heard about a wife, or ex-wife, a partner, or children, but she had never socialized with him (and neither had anyone else she knew, as far as she could tell) so she couldn't be sure. She wasn't even sure where he was from, although someone once said he'd grown up in Philadelphia. At some point he had lost his left eye, but how or when it had happened, no one seemed to know. She did know that he was brilliant. He'd graduated with a BA, Summa Cum Laude, from one of the Ivy Leagues, and he'd done his PhD at the University of London studying under none other than Dr. Freda Barker, the first (and so far only) woman appointed to the Neil Ker Professorship in Medieval Manuscripts, the most prestigious position of its kind in the world. He had a great pedigree, and he was a great scholar. What he was doing building a collection of medieval manuscripts at a university best known for its science and engineering programs was beyond her.

Darcy knocked on the door, loath to interrupt his study. She watched him tense, then relax after turning around and seeing it was her.

"Hello, Darcy," he said, his gaze intense despite his relaxed posture. "I thought you'd left hours ago."

"No sir, I was troubleshooting that script I've been writing. The one to map the provenance database? But I'm still stuck. Anyway, I'm supposed to go out with Jane and Thor tonight. They're waiting outside, actually. They asked... I mean, we were wondering if you'd like to come along? Brews and darts, maybe some food?"

Nick hadn't moved during her little speech, and he continued to regard her with his usual unsmiling intensity. Nick Fury did not, as a rule, smile, preferring to show humor by way of raised eyebrows and quirks of his posture. After a moment he lifted an eyebrow and shifted his weight onto his left foot, which Darcy took as a good sign.

"I would like to, of course," he said, turning back toward the table, "but I am in the middle of transcribing these marginal notes. Would you like to see?"

Darcy wavered between her desire to take a closer look at the book, and her knowledge that Jane and the others were waiting for her outside in the cold. "I'd like to, of course" she said with a smile, "but I really need to get outside before Jane decides to come in to get me." Nick exhaled in a way that suggested amusement, and he didn't turn away from the book again before saying, "We can't have that. Have a good night, say hello to Jane and Thor for me."

Darcy was halfway down the hall when the door to Nick's office swung shut with an audible click, leaving the hallway in relative darkness, illuminated only by the exit sign marking the door to the stairwell.

It took her a few minutes to make it down the stairs and around to the front of the building, by which time she found Jane, Thor and Loki making themselves comfortable on the wooden benches in the library lobby.

Loki stood up as she approached. "Good evening, Miss Lewis," he drawled, his Norwegian accent weak but not lost after many years of living in the States "I suppose Dr. Fury will not be joining us this evening?" His cheeks, usually pale like the rest of his skin, were pink from the cold, as was the tip of his nose. Darcy swallowed and tried not to notice that she thought it was adorable. Then he smiled. Not his usual grin, which he made during meetings when he thought he was about to one-up someone, but a genuine smile. As though he was pleased to see her (which, she knew, he probably was).

"Hey, Loki." Darcy replied. Darcy briefly considered asking him to just call her Darcy, but she always did, and he never complied, and he probably already thought it was their private game, so she didn't. Instead, she answered his question. "Nope, he's doing some work on that new acquisition. The breviary?" Loki nodded his head in recognition. She turned her head to Jane and Thor, who were just standing up. "Hey guys. You are a couple of jerks, you know that? Like I was going to forget brews and darts."

"I am sorry, Darcy Lewis," said Thor, inclining his head slightly. "But you must admit, it was an amusing prank. And you did fall right into it."

"I did, big guy. Sorry, but I really would have remembered. Eventually. I was just working on this script, I've been writing it all week and it's _finally_ really coming together, it's almost done, just getting all the bugs out, and I just... well, you know." Jane nodded. "Yes, Darcy, I know exactly how you can get. I probably get that way too, occasionally."

Thor cleared his throat and smiled down at Jane with a fondness that made Darcy's chest feel tight. "Maybe, just occasionally," he said, and Jane returned his smile.

Darcy was ready to break up their party, but Loki beat her to it. "I think we all know what it's like to become entranced while trying to solve a problem. Let us now solve our current problem, which is, we are here, and brews and darts are over _there_ ," he gestured dramatically towards the door, and then led the way out the door and down the front stairs of the building, down to the quad.

It took them about fifteen minutes, walking first across the quad and then through the streets of the small town, to reach their destination. As they walked they caught up on the week's events, and the latest gossip: Jane's experiments with Tony Stark, their colleague in mechanical engineering; Loki's latest acquisition (the papers of a local family, which included diaries written by a house slave); Thor's research making new connections between two little-studied Latin texts; and Darcy's next consultation project. She couldn't tell them much about it, as the manuscript wouldn't arrive at the library until Monday morning, but it certainly sounded interesting. And then the gossip, which was mostly along the lines of _what exactly is the relationship between Tony and Bruce and Betty anyway._ Darcy didn't really care, what people got up to was their own business, but Jane seemed to care, and Thor was happy to humor her, and Loki didn't say anything, so there you go. Jane, Darcy thought, could probably do with paying less attention to other people's relationships.

The Underground was one of the few bars in Willowdale that specialized in a non-student clientele. As their group slid into an empty booth by the front window, Darcy scanned the room. The dart boards were all being used at the moment, but that was fine as, she realized, she was hungry. Really hungry. She hadn't eaten in... six hours? Seven? No wonder she was so hungry.

"Hey, have you guys had dinner yet?" she asked, grabbing a menu and interrupting Thor's complaints about the caliber of the students in his first semester Latin course. Thor was a professor of Classics at Culver, and although he loved teaching, he was regularly scandalized by the skill level of incoming freshmen. "I am _starving_. Anybody want to split a pizza?"

Jane shook her head. "Thor and I ate at home before we headed out. Loki?" Loki shook his head too. "I had just eaten a sandwich from that cafe in the basement of the library and was walking home when I ran into these two on the quad. Had I known how my evening would turn out, I would have skipped the sandwich. It was not tasty. Alas." He actually looked sad.

"Well, I will eat enough pizza for all of you. And you are all welcome to take some, if you'd like. _And_ , because I am this awesome, I'll even pick up the first round." Jane demurred, requesting a glass of water. Loki and Thor both requested IPAs. "IPA, seriously? That stuff is gross." Darcy made a face. "So bitter." 

"I would say it's better than your Budweiser, or Coors," answered Loki, drawing out the "oo" in a way that Darcy thought was slightly obscene. Then she realized she was watching his lips, and felt herself blush. "Those are gross too," she responded. "Whitbier is where it's at. They have a local brew on tap here that is pretty great. Now scoot, I need to stand up." This last bit was aimed at Jane, who was sitting on the outside of the bench, blocking Darcy's exit. As the women stood, Loki said to Darcy, "You know, I will try a pint of the whitbier, please. I need to expand my horizons." Darcy glanced at Thor, raising and eyebrow in challenge. He laughed. "No, thank you. I appreciate the IPA and its, how would you say it Darcy, hoppy loveliness?"

"Hoppy nastiness, more like," Darcy shot back, "but to each his own. So, one medium pepperoni pizza, one water, two whitbiers, and an IPA for the big guy," then she headed across the room to the bar.

As she stood at the end of the bar waiting to order, she felt a presence close to her right side. She glanced up to find a familiar pair of brown eyes peering into her own. When he saw her recognition, the owner of the brown eyes smiled. "Hey there, long time no see."

Darcy smiled despite herself. "Sam Wilson, as I live and breathe." On impulse she reached out to him, and he pulled her into a brief but strong hug. His smile grew wider. "How you doing, you okay? Out on a date?" at this he aimed his chin towards the front window. "Ah, no," Darcy replied, "just out with friends." She looked towards the booth and noticed that Jane and Loki had switched places, _of course they had_ ; Loki saw her looking, and offered them both a smile and a nod. Darcy shook her head. "Not a date. Friends. _Friends_." Sam appraised her. "Uh-huh. Methinks the lady doth protest too much. Or not." He leaned against the bar, looked down, then back to her face.

"It's really good to see you, Darcy. I mean, it's been a couple years." Darcy fixed her gaze across the bar, suddenly feeling uncomfortable and willing the bartender to come and take her damn order already. Sam was still talking. He touched her hand. "Darcy, please look at me. It's been almost three years. I was friends with both of you. I would still like to be friends with you. We were close, weren't we?"

Darcy was frozen. It was often like this, even now, thinking about him. Him. It hurt to even think his name. Steve. Steve Rogers. Fifteen years, they had been together. Which was pretty amazing, since when they broke up Darcy was only 28. They'd grown up together, their entire lives were entwined in every possible way, and then, BOOM, he'd left her. Left her for someone he'd only known a few months. Left her for a man, when as far as she'd known he was 100% straight. Left her reeling. Their friends were all _his_ friends, Sam, and Natasha and Clint, Betty and Tony and Bruce, even Phil Coulson. So Darcy had dropped them. She knew, maybe, it wasn't right, but she knew there was such a thing as self-preservation, and she was prepared to use it. Jane was the only friend of _theirs_ who was really _hers_. Thor came as part of that package, and Loki didn't show up until later (not that he was really her _friend_ , more like an acquaintance).

"Sam, we're cool, okay?" She faced him, speaking as quietly as she could in the crowded bar. "It's still really hard. He basically destroyed my life. And, you know, I get it. He fell in love, he found the person he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. And," she swallowed, "it could have been worse. He let me down as easily as he could, I know that. But still," interrupted by the bartender, Darcy gave him the order before turning back to Sam. Sam was still leaning against the bar, but now he was smiling.

"Man, I just want to know we're cool. We're cool?" He said. Darcy nodded, and Sam grinned. "Good, great. Now, I am sitting over in that corner," he gestured towards the back of the room, to where she knew a large hi-top was located under a giant TV screen showing a soccer match, "along with a couple of people you might recognize. I am not going to ask you to come over there, but, you know, if you want to, you're welcome." Darcy stood on her toes and just caught a flash of red hair. _Natasha_. Darcy felt herself begin to melt, then remembered, _Natasha introduced Steve to ..._ , and froze again.

"Thanks, Sam. Maybe another time? But it was really nice to see you." She squeezed his hand, turned, and headed back to the booth.

Loki was watching her curiously as she walked over and slid back onto the bench. "Friend of yours at the bar?"

Before she could respond, Jane said, "Sam Wilson, he was a friend of Steve Rogers." Thor and Loki both tensed, but Jane didn't seem to notice. Darcy rubbed her hands on her face. "Seriously, Jane? I can answer those questions myself." Jane looked offended. "Loki asked who that was, and I told him. I didn't think it was a state secret."

"You just didn't want me to avoid the question, Jane. So, I won't." Darcy turned slightly to face Loki, her face heating up. "Yes, that was Sam Wilson. He was a friend of mine and Steve's. They served together in the Army after high school, then they both came here for college. Sam works at the VA hospital, or he did two years ago. We were all close. I expect you know about me and Steve?" By this point Darcy was leaning forward, determination in her voice, and Loki looked like a man staring down the barrel of a gun, or being overtaken by a train. He wasn't far off the mark. He nodded. "Well, after Steve broke up with me, I was left in the uncomfortable situation of sharing all my friends with him. And he was still here, with his boyfriend, and they were socializing with _our_ friends, but then they turned into _their_ friends. Because they were at all the parties, and the events, and the nights out. The two of them were there. And, I just couldn't take it. So I cut everyone off. Except for these two," she gestured at Jane and Thor across the table, Thor looking at his hands and Jane looking out the window, both looking very uncomfortable. "and Betty, Bruce and Tony of course because I have to be cordial with them, because of work. But the others, Sam, and the rest of the people sitting under the TV at the back of the bar," Darcy noticed Loki's eyes flitting, presumably to gauge if he could see the back of the room from their table, "I haven't talked to them in like two or three years. Pretty much since Steve and I broke up. Since he broke up with me."

Darcy pushed her lips together and slouched against the back of the bench, pulling off her glasses and wiping her eyes with the edge of her sleeves. She hadn't realized that she had been leaning _quite_ so close to Loki, nor that she had been speaking as loudly as she was.

An uncomfortable silence prevailed for a few moments, only interrupted by a waitress bringing their beers. Loki took a sip of his whitbier. "This is quite good, Miss Lewis. Thank you for the recommendation. And, I apologize for asking about your friend. I did not mean to upset you."

"It's okay, Loki, you don't need to apologize. You didn't do anything wrong." She threw a dirty look across the table at Jane, who ignored it valiantly. "Anyway, maybe I overreacted. Can we change the subject?"

Thor ran his fingers down the sides of his beer glass. "If you do not mind, Darcy, I would like to know more about your next consultation. You say it is a palimpsest?"

Loki leaned back, setting his head on the back of the bench and rolling his eyes. "Oh yes, Thor, let's talk more about the medieval manuscript. How _exhilarating_ that will be for all of us."

Darcy understood that Loki's attitude was for Thor's benefit, not for hers, and she chose to ignore him. "I said I think it could be a palimpsest." Darcy took a sip of her beer. _Damn, that's tasty._ "I haven't seen any pictures, just a very brief description. The description doesn't say anything about a palimpsest, but the owner wants us to do collagen analysis, DNA analysis, and multispectral imaging, just on a single eight-leaf section. To me, that strongly implies..."

"A single-quire palimpsest." Loki interrupted her. He looked pleased with himself, and took another sip of beer.

"Um, sorry, but what's a 'palimpsest'?" Jane inquired, her brow furrowed as she toyed with her phone. "I've heard that word, but I'm not sure what it means for a manuscript to be one." 

Darcy nodded. "Yeah, sorry. It's when parchment has been used once, and then someone scrapes off the old ink and writes something new on top. Multispectral imaging can sometimes uncover the erased text." Jane responded with a single nod and a silent "ah," and continued to play with her phone. Darcy shrugged. "It's interesting, anyway, I'm always glad to see a new manuscript."

"Where is it from? I mean, who is the owner?" Thor asked, still running his fingers around his beer glass.

"It's from a private collection, I don't even know who the owner is. Maria Hill is acting as the go between." She turned towards Loki. "Do you know Maria? I think she left before you started here." Loki nodded, "Yes, I've met her. Americana is not her specialty, but she will on occasion have decent materials on offer. I don't believe I have purchased anything from her, though. I didn't realize she had worked at Culver."

It was Darcy's turn to nod. "Yeah, Maria was assistant manuscript curator under Phil Coulson, but only for a couple of years, and she left about five years ago. She originally left to work in Sotheby's manuscripts department, but now she's got that bookselling business. And once I set up this consultation service, she started acting as a kind of middleman for private collectors interested in getting their manuscripts analyzed, but who prefer to remain anonymous. She's very discreet."

"Anyway," Darcy continued, "that's all I have for now. I hope I'm right that it's a palimpsest, and I hope it's interesting and not just some boring saint's life or other." Thor, who had written his dissertation on the Life of St. Margaret, grinned and kicked her under the table.

Just then the pizza arrived, and not long thereafter a dart board opened up. Soon Darcy was having so much fun kicking Loki's ass at darts that she didn't even notice when the group from the back of the bar made their exit, and she didn't think about them again until several days later, after things really started going to hell.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well that was interesting. That pretty much got everyone introduced, and I hope they are in-character enough. I wasn't really expecting Sam and the crew to show up at the end, and I'm not entirely sure what I'm going to do with them moving forward. But it's interesting to have options.
> 
> I am a huge nerd, so I apologize for any overly-technical language. I'm happy to explain anything, and to update as needed for clarification. (I will not apologize for being a huge nerd, though)
> 
> [Sotheby's](http://www.sothebys.com/) is the premiere auctioneer for all kinds of art objects, including manuscripts. 
> 
> The breviary in Nick's office is based on [this one at the University of Pennsylvania](http://dla.library.upenn.edu/dla/medren/pageturn.html?q=breviary&id=MEDREN_4367723&rotation=0&currentpage=213)
> 
> Collagen analysis can be used to determine what animal parchment is made from (typically cow, sheep, or goat). DNA analysis can be used for that too, but it can also determine relationships between specific animals. Multispectral imaging is taking images under various spectrums (spectra?) of light, ultraviolet - infrared, and analyzing them in various ways.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Darcy meets a manuscript, and has a heart-to-heart with her boss.

Darcy's weekend was uneventful. They'd only stayed out until 10 on Friday, since Jane and Thor were leaving early the next morning for a family event somewhere in Pennsylvania. Loki and Darcy had walked together about half-way home; they lived on the same side of town, but several blocks apart. Loki'd offered to walk her all the way home, but she declined his offer and tried hard to ignore the obvious disappointment on his face. _He's never even asked me out, so what is this anyway? Shut up, shut up._ Saturday was grocery and code-from-home day (completion of script: successful!), and Sunday was jog and go to sleep early day, so Darcy was refreshed and raring to go on Monday morning.

The day started normally. Darcy woke up, washed, dressed, fed the cat, filled her insulated cup with heavily sweetened and creamed coffee, strapped on her iPod, and grabbed a packet of pop tarts as she headed out the door. She lived with her cat, Zoloft, in a one-bedroom basement apartment not far from campus. Steve was allergic to cats, so one good thing to come out of the break-up was that she was finally able to have one. When she told Sam that Steve's leaving had destroyed her life, she didn't think she was exaggerating. She had gone into intensive therapy, and her therapist had suggested that she ask her doctor for a prescription for antidepressants. Darcy'd refused, throwing herself into work instead, and assigning her new cat antidepressant duty. She expected that warm kitty snuggles paired with regular doses of chocolate worked just as well for her as drugs would, thank you very much.

It was a beautiful day, mid-way between Halloween and Thanksgiving, crisp and clear, and the leaves crunched under her boots as she hiked the eight blocks to work. She loved her neighborhood, there were so many trees and enough back streets that she could avoid walking next to traffic. There were lots of kids in the neighborhood too, and since she walked by the local school on her way in she inevitably passed groups of students, laughing and running, looking forward to a new day. Monday was no exception, and Darcy paused at the corner across from the school to wait for the light to change. She took the opportunity to admire a handsome little girl (about seven, she figured) wearing a blue pinafore and a matching winter coat, shiny black patent leather Mary Janes, her hair in cornrows and a smile on her face that Darcy thought rivaled the sun. The girl’s smile also hurt her a bit, gave her a small tightness in her chest that threatened to grow, so she set her eyes on the cars parked across the street and quickly walked on up the sidewalk as soon as the light changed.

As Darcy entered the library through the staff door, she heard someone calling her name over Tool blasting on her iPod. She pulled out the earbuds and turned around. "Hi, Darcy Lewis! Darcy Lewis! Package fer yeh!" Ben Simons shuffled out of the mailroom, a not large but still heavy-looking cardboard box held out in both hands. Ben had been running the mailroom for as long as Darcy had worked at Culver; he was ancient when she started there, and he was still ancient on this morning. Darcy grinned. "Wow, already? It's barely 8am. UPS? FedEx?" Ben shrugged. "No ma'am, some private courier service. Came in a big black Lincoln Town Car, were waitin' here when I opened at 7:30." _That's interesting, and different._ "Well, thanks Ben. I've been looking forward to this one." "Have a good day!" Ben replied, shuffling back into his domain.

Darcy caught the elevator up to the fourth floor, unlocked the door to the main office, _first one in, no surprise there,_ then proceeded to her office where she placed the package on her side table before dumping her bag, coat, scarf, and beanie on her spare chair. She rubbed her hands together as she contemplated her next steps.

 _Unpack the book, have a look. Email Maria to let her know it arrived safely. Meeting Bruce and Betty for sampling at one, Tony for multispectral at three. Full photography tomorrow._ This plan gave her just a few hours to herself with the book in the morning, and she didn't want to waste even a minute.

The side table was a catch-all, a place where Darcy put things when she didn't know where else to put them. She hadn't had a consultation for about a month, and she'd allowed it to get... well, to get pretty messy, if she were honest about it. There were a couple of books stacked precariously at one edge of the table, and these she moved to an empty spot on the bookshelf. Next to the spot vacated by the books were two notebooks. She glanced in them and put one on her desk, the other on the floor next to the door. _I need to give that to Phil, what am I doing with his notebook anyway? Hope he hasn't needed it._ Finally, articles printed from online spread out in loosely-organized piles covered most of the table. She sighed, then pulled them into one big pile and set them on top of the notebook on her desk. _I need to reorganize those anyway._

Now she could get started. She pulled a couple of cradles from a box under the table, soft foam cut into triangles designed to support books that couldn't safely lie flat on the table. It took her a minute to find her scissors, which had somehow managed to crawl under the notebook and printouts on her desk.

Darcy took a moment to study the box. Her name was written on it in artistic, loopy, block letters, which she recognized as Maria's. There was no address, just her name. She carefully used the sharp edge of the scissors to cut the tape across the top of the box, then did the same for the sides. She lifted the external flaps, then the internal flaps, then reached her hand in to pull out the newspaper that was cushioning the contents. This action uncovered another box, a nice looking clamshell box, covered in black fabric, with a shiny gold circle in the center. Darcy would normally expect a family crest, or some kind of insignia, but the circle was blank. She ran her finger over it, curious, and could feel raised lines underneath, as though the circle were covering something.

_Well, that's weird._

Slowly, Darcy pulled the clamshell out of the packing box, using both hands. It wasn't large, just a bit wider and longer than a paperback book, but thick, and quite heavy. Setting it on the table, she noticed that there weren't any other marks on the box, no title or shelf mark. _That would make it difficult to find things on the shelf, I'd think._ She took the packing box, checked it for a receipt or any note inside (there wasn't any), and set it outside her door for recycling on her way to the restroom across the hall, where she washed her hands.

Meeting a new book was Darcy's favorite part of her job. She loved everything about her job, really. She was originally hired as a code monkey, on a short-term project to migrate the manuscript catalog to new technology, but quickly proved herself to be as competent with the books as she was with the computer. She'd conceived of a program to make the high-tech techniques Culver applied to their manuscripts as a matter of course - collagen and DNA analysis, multispectral imaging, reflectance transformation imaging, 3D modeling - available to other institutions. It also proved to be popular with private collectors. The program had the added benefit of bringing money to the department (which made Nick and the rest of the higher-ups happy), but for Darcy the benefit was that she got to meet so many new and interesting books.

 _This is the moment,_ thought Darcy, as she walked back into her office and faced the box. Then she pulled the top of the box up and over, exposing the book inside. She lifted it gently and placed it in the waiting book supports. The book had a beautiful cover, leather, which had worn away at the corners exposing wood underneath. _That explains its weight, then._ There were four holes on the long edge, two towards the top and two at the bottom, indicating there had once been latches that served to hold the book closed, but they were long gone. The leather itself was dark brown, and had been embossed with a criss-cross pattern. _Fifteenth-century binding_ , Darcy guessed.

She pulled over her desk chair, excavated the notebook from underneath the stack of printouts, took a pencil out of the mug on her desk, and sat down to work. Then she got back up and printed out the email from Maria that briefly described the book and set out the work to be done.

"Prayerbook, 13th century" (Maria wrote) "Binding, 15th century. English, probably from Northern England. Calendar, Psalter, Canticles, prayers to saints, Office of the Dead." _No saints' lives. Sorry Thor._ "Full imaging. Multispectral imaging on fols. 17-24 only. Collagen and DNA on fols. 17-20 only."

Darcy sat back down, finally satisfied that she had everything she'd need for the next couple of hours. She was thorough, checking for provenance marks, any indication of people who had owned the book in the past: bookplates, signatures, annotations on the first and last leaves. There were none that she could see at first glance, but she knew there could be something buried in the middle of the book. There was a patch of dried glue on the inside of the front cover, which implied that there had been a bookplate, but it had been removed. She checked the list of contents, taking notes on which page each section started and ended. She studied the handwriting, taking note of specific forms of letters in different parts of the manuscript, taking some time to go online and look at other manuscripts from the same approximate time and geographical area as this one.

It was only after this initial research that Darcy allowed herself to purposefully turn to folio 17 and check out the eight-leaf section that had her so curious. She fingered a corner of the leaf, examining first one side and then the other. The parchment was definitely different from the parchment used in the other parts of the manuscript. That parchment was calf, she was certain: creamy, off-white, peach-soft on the hair side and shiny on the flesh side, with very little sign of hair follicles. This was different. It was stiff, and yellowed, and the hair follicles were large, many, and pronounced. _Looks like sheep,_ and she added a line in her notebook.

It was definitely a palimpsest. She could see remnants of writing peeking from the edges of the existing text in the top and bottom margin. The text was written at a 90 degree angle to the existing text, which Darcy figured meant the original parchment had been four large leaves, cleaned and scraped, then turned sideways, and folded over to form a new quire of eight leaves. She couldn't read any of the words, but she could make out enough of the letters to know they were in Latin, _thank goodness_ (Darcy'd never bothered to learn Greek), and they were much older than 13th century. Maybe 11th century? She made another note.

She moved on to the existing text, the text written over the palimpsest. The script was the same, or very similar to, the script in the rest of the manuscript. Again, she paid special attention to a few letter forms, making notes as she went. She was so intent on analyzing the script, she wasn't even paying attention to the words on the page until her eyes happened upon one line of text:

 _miserere mei Deus secundum misericordiam tuam iuxta multitudinem miserationum tuarum dele iniquitates meas_ "Have mercy on me, O God, according to thy great mercy. And according to the multitude of thy tender mercies blot out my iniquity."

Darcy set down her pencil and stared at the page. She blinked. The words were familiar to her: the opening for Psalm 51. She'd learned Latin initially in grad school, but continued her study while working in the department. Over the years she'd taken several courses in the Classics department at Culver, mostly with Thor as he specialized in the post-classical period. In a special course on Biblical Latin, each student had been assigned a manuscript Psalter, and a psalm, and had been required to transcribe the psalm from the manuscript, translate it, and then write a short paper on the use of that particular psalm in the Middle Ages. She'd earned an A, of course. Her psalm had been Psalm 51 (or Psalm 50, using the numbering from the Latin Vulgate, a system that she still found confusing).

It wasn't unusual to find a psalm in a psalter, of course, but to find _this particular_ psalm at the very beginning of a psalter? That was strange. Darcy brought her laptop over to the table and found an online Latin Vulgate, and checked Psalm 50, just to be sure. She was right, though, it was Psalm 50. She checked the folio number: 19 recto. And the calendar took up the first 12 folios of the manuscript. _How the heck is Psalm 50 starting seven folios in?_ She looked for the psalm that followed Psalm 50 in the manuscript, typed the first few words into the online Vulgate, and discovered it was Psalm 101. A theory began to form in her head, and she checked the rest of the contents on the palimpsest, making notes as she went along. She also checked the end of the quire that preceded the palimpsest, and the beginning of the one that followed. Her head was swimming; she needed a break. She checked the time on her laptop: 11am. She'd been working for 2 1/2 hours straight. _No wonder my brain is full._

Darcy closed the book, marking the location of the palimpsest with a small slip of acid-free paper, and put it back in its clamshell box, picked Phil's notebook off the floor by the door, then walked out of her office, pulling the door shut behind her. She turned around, jumping in alarm and crying out as she ran into someone standing in the hallway. She looked up into his face; she didn't recognize him. He was relatively tall, not quite six feet, and sharp featured. His hair was dark, cut very short around the sides but long around the top. He needed a shave, but in a way that gave the impression he did it on purpose, not that he'd forgotten to shave. He wasn't a student, she was sure of that. Too old for one thing, probably a well-preserved 45 or even 50. But he didn't strike her as a professor, either. He was wearing a long-sleeved black shirt, tight around his chest and biceps, jeans, and a backpack designed so the straps formed an "X" across his chest. He carried a puffy black winter coat over one arm. He held his hands up and half-smiled down at Darcy as she caught her breath. _Nice biceps,_ she thought to herself. _Probably still a douche._

"What the Hell!" Darcy scolded him, and crossed her arms awkwardly across her chest. "You shouldn't lurk outside people's doors like that. Anyway, you shouldn't even be back here. This area is restricted to staff."

He was still smiling, one side of his mouth curled up, seemingly amused that she was flustered by him. His eyes did not waver from her face, though. _Score one to the douchebag._ "Sorry, ma'am." His voice was deep, and rough. _Nice voice,_ said her brain automatically _shut up,_ she replied. "I came through on the stairwell, the door was propped open. I was just looking for the restroom."

Darcy glanced down the hall, to note that the door to the stairwell was indeed propped open. "That's wrong, I don't know how that happened. It should be locked. I'm going to have to ask you to leave. Anyway, there's no men's room on this floor, just a women's room. You need to go either one floor up or one floor down. It's stupid, I know, but that's how they designed the library." She was rambling, she knew, but this strange man was standing too close to her, and it made her uncomfortable. "Sorry, but that's the way it is."

The man nodded slowly and took a few steps backwards, towards the stairwell, hands still slightly raised towards her. "I _am_ sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I'll just go back down the stairs. See you around." With that he turned around and walked quickly to the stairwell. Darcy watched as he pulled the door shut behind him, and also took the opportunity to check out his ass. _Damn._

The interaction hadn't helped her headspace. "Goddammit," she said under her breath and raising her hands to rub her face, found she was still holding Phil Coulson's notebook. The door to his office, which was located between her's and Nick Fury's office, was closed, but she knocked on it anyway. She was not surprised when there was no reply; Phillip Coulson traveled more than anyone else she knew, even Nick Fury himself. He was Nick's right-hand man, and when Nick had a line on a new donor, or a new collection to purchase, he usually sent Phil in first in order (she always figured, although she had no evidence) to put people at ease. Nick was a brilliant scholar; he could also be offputting, with his eyepatch and natural intensity. Phil, on the other hand, although not exactly _friendly_ , was approachable. Competent, but not brilliant. He had a talent for putting people at ease, and he was almost impossible to faze. As a very traditional curator he also considered Darcy's work as deeply suspect, which had caused an ongoing tension in their relationship. The breakup hadn't helped; Steve had worked for him all through grad school, and they'd socialized frequently with Phil and his various girlfriends over the years. Phil had never said anything to her directly about the breakup, but they also hadn't socialized in three years. Another friendship down the tubes, courtesy of _James Fucking Barnes_.

Darcy stayed standing at Phil's door, gazing at the notebook in her hands and wondering what she should do with it. Her reverie was interrupted by a familiar voice calling to her down the hall. "Good morning, Darcy." She looked up to see Nick Fury striding purposefully towards her from the direction of the main entrance to the department, black watchcap covering his head, black leather trenchcoat cinched around his waist, black trousers and boots peeking out the bottom of the coat. He even carried a battered black leather briefcase in one black-glove covered hand. "Hello, sir. You're in late this morning. And what is it with everyone wearing black today? Sorry I didn't get the memo." She was wearing a green corduroy skirt that reached past her knees, a maroon shirt and matching wool tights, brown ankle boots, and a brown cardigan.

Nick's forehead furrowed. "I had a breakfast meeting with Dean Pierce. And what do you mean about wearing black?"

"There was a guy up here a minute ago, all dressed in black. Well, he was wearing jeans, but still. Gave me a scare. Said he was looking for the restroom." Nick frowned. "How did he get back here? We've got students sitting at the front desk, they shouldn't have let anyone back."

Darcy pointed back the way he'd come. "He came up the stairwell, said the door was propped open. I made him go back down, and he pulled the door shut on his way." His frown deepening, Nick set down his briefcase and went to check the stairwell door. It was locked tight. He came back to her, concern etched on his face. "That's a security breach, and it could be serious. Not just for the books, could have been bad for you, working back here by yourself. He didn't threaten you, did he?" His right hand moved to her left shoulder in a protective gesture, his thumb idly rubbing her shoulder. She swallowed. It hadn't occurred to her that he could have been a threat to her, but now it seemed obvious.

"No, sir. I told him to go back the way he came, and he did. He didn't seem threatening. He ..." She didn't know how to finish that comment, so she shook her head. "I'm fine. It's fine."

"I'm going to call building security, to make sure they check that door regularly." His thumb stilled, and he looked her straight in the eye. "Are you sure you don't want me to ask them to keep an eye out for this guy?"

Darcy shook her head, "Uh uh, nope. I'm fine, it's fine. He was just lost, that's all." Nick nodded his head, and used the hand that had been on her shoulder to pick up the briefcase. "I'm glad you're not busy, I have something I want to talk to you about. Come into my office, please."

* * *

Five minutes later, Darcy was sitting in one of the leather armchairs in Nick's office, sipping a cappuccino from the machine he kept in one corner. _Must be nice to be the boss_ she thought, and not for the first time. Unlike Friday night, when the darkness from outside seemed to slip into every corner and even the bright lamps had difficulty illuminating the space, the morning sunshine reflected off the shiny wood paneling and furniture, making the room much brighter than it felt like it should be considering the amount of wood in the room. Nick preferred to stand; he was leaning slightly against the table in the middle of the room. The manuscript from Friday had been removed, and it was now completely clear aside from a tri-folded piece of paper. Nick picked it up and handed it out to her.

"Phil Coulson gave this to me on Wednesday. I want you to read it, and then we'll talk about it." Darcy took the paper with the hand that wasn't holding her cappuccino, and awkwardly unfolded it. She read it through twice before looking up to Nick.

"This is a resignation letter. What the hell?" she exclaimed without thinking. "Sorry, sir. I'm just surprised. He took a job at Columbia? COLUMBIA??" _Watch it, girl. Don't want to cry in front of the boss._

Nick appraised her steadily. "Yes, Columbia." He pushed off the table and began to pace slowly across the open space between the table and her chair. "There's background that isn't in that letter, of course. Steve is very popular. He's only been there a couple of years, and he's regularly getting offers, some are even good offers. Columbia wants to keep him happy. They had an opening in the library, Coulson applied for it, Steve put a word in, and Coulson got the job. His last official day is a month from today." Nick stopped pacing and turned back to face Darcy.

"Oooookay..." She wasn't sure what else to say. She took a sip of her rapidly cooling cappuccino. "So Coulson is going to Columbia to work with Steve Rogers. You called me into your office to tell me this? You could have written me an email."

Nick was still watching her closely. "No, Darcy. This is just a preamble to the conversation we are going to have. I don't want to talk about them, I want to talk about _you_." He held out his hand, and she handed the letter back to him. He placed it on the table again, and put his hands behind his back. He started pacing again.

Before he even started speaking, Darcy knew what was going to happen next. She called it "Fury's Socratic Method," which she thought would make an excellent name for a rock band. It was what Nick did when he wanted to tell you something, but he wanted you to understand his thought process for getting there. So he would ask you questions, make you answer until you got to where he was in his own thinking. It was effective, but time consuming. Darcy loved it.

Step. Step. "Darcy, how long have you worked for me?" Step. "About ten years, sir." Step. "Why did I hire you the first time?" Step. "You hired me because you needed someone to migrate the manuscript catalogue, and you knew I could do the job." He paused, regarding her. "Wrong answer. Try again, please." _What? Oh, shit. Why else?_ Step. Step.

"Come on Darcy, you can do this. Let's try from another angle. Do you remember the first time we met?" Step. Step.

"That I can answer. I came over here with Jane and Thor. It was my Junior year, and I'd just been interning with her for a month or so. There was someone here giving a lecture on the Archimedes Palimpsest, Jane was interested because of the physics connection and she wanted me to come along because she wanted me to understand physics better, or something. It was the first time I met Thor, too, actually. They were just dating. Sorry, I got off topic. Hold on." Nick just waited for her to continue. "So, there was the lecture, which included lots of pictures of that manuscript, and there were multispectral images, and I could see the text, that text that had been erased. And it was just amazing." She paused. "And then, after the lecture, there was a little exhibit of some manuscripts from our collection. It was the first time I'd seen a medieval manuscript. In person I mean. And they were beautiful. I just remember being kind of in awe of them, that there were these old books, that people had _written_ them, hundreds of years ago, and then other people had read them, and written in them too. And I just thought it was kind of awesome. And you were there, I remember thinking you were scary, actually, but you were nice. I don't really remember what we talked about, though." She looked at him expectantly.

Nick Fury raised an eyebrow. "I remember what we talked about. Would you like me to remind you?"

"Yes, please." She was curious, she honestly had no memory of their discussion.

"You told me about your grandmother." He tipped his head to the side. "Do you remember now?"

Darcy inhaled with a breathy sigh. " _Oh yes_ , oh god, I forgot that I told you that. Wow."

Darcy's grandmother had loved Elizabeth Barrett Browning. She collected editions of her poetry; first editions, second editions, annotated editions, teaching editions, any editions she could find. She would read them and re-read them, and she would read them to Darcy during her occasional visits, in place of a bedtime story. The jewel of her grandmother's collection, however, wasn't any book of her poetry. It was a copy of Mary Wollstonecraft's _A Vindication of the Rights of Women,_ which had been owned by Browning and which she had annotated throughout. Her grandmother used to take that book off the shelf reverently, and wouldn't let Darcy touch it. _"Elizabeth owned this book, Darcy. She touched it. She read these words with her own eyes! And see - her notes! Her own thoughts, written with her own hand, here for us. Ah, Darcy, she is showing us into her soul."_ To be honest Darcy had always thought this aspect of her grandmother was a bit suspect, but she loved her, and she was the one bright spot in her life (until she met Steve), so she never complained about it (at least not anywhere where she could hear her). She'd never understood what her grandmother saw in that book, until she stood at that table in the Rare Book Department at Culver University and touched a book that someone had written eight hundred years before. Nick had been standing next to her when she made the connection, and apparently he remembered it.

Nick started pacing again. Step. Step. "Now, try again. Why did I hire you?"

"You hired me because you needed someone to migrate the manuscript catalogue, and you knew I could do the job. And because you liked my story about my grandmother?"

Nick stopped pacing, closed his eyes and sighed. She kind of liked aggravating him. "Close enough. I hired you because Jane Foster recommended your technical skills highly, and because I saw something in you during that discussion that I liked. The way you were talking about your grandmother's book, and the manuscripts on the table, as being connected to the people who wrote them, and read them." He regarded her again, unsmiling, intense. "I'll admit that I was also impressed with the lecture. I don't know if you remember, but Jane wasn't the only scientist who attended. Drs. Banner and Stark were both there, and they were interested in the possibility of working with our collections in their labs. I wanted that here. I thought you would do a good job with the catalogue, but I also thought you might have a future running a program." He started pacing again. Step. Step.

Darcy was overwhelmed. "Oh my god, Nick. I had no idea. That's, um, that's kind of nuts. I was a Poli Sci major. I was a _Junior in college_. I'd never even thought about manuscripts before, and I didn't care about medieval anything. No offense, but what were you thinking?"

"Let's just say that I know talent when I see it."

Darcy swallowed the last of her cappuccino and looked into her cup. She still didn't know where this conversation was heading.

"So ten years ago I hired you to work on our catalogue. What other jobs have you done here for me?" Step. Step.

"Um, okay. After the catalogue migration you hired me to help with actually cataloging the manuscripts. That was awesome, by the way. Then I graduated, and Tony and Bruce got that grant to experiment with parchment analysis, and you hired me as the program manager." He'd stopped pacing again, watching her. "Oh shit, Nick, I see what you were doing. Sorry, sir. When that ended, you convinced me that I'd have more options with a library science degree, and you convinced me to go to Catholic because I'd be able to take Latin, but I'd also be close enough to do some project work on the side." She grinned at him. "Sneaky! Right, so I graduated and by then you and Tony and Bruce had another grant, and you hired me to run that grant too. And when that was done, Dean Pierce was impressed enough to hire me to see if we could get something going to analyze all the manuscripts in the collection, like as a regular thing." Nick nodded his head once, and waited for her to continue. "That was when I came up with the idea for the consultation service, which ended up being really popular. Yay! And I've been doing that for about two years, in addition to our own stuff. And that's what I'm doing now." She shifted her eyes towards the window, smiling at the sunbeam that was now preparing to move onto her toes. But then another thought occurred to her, and she frowned at him. "You know, though. That's also a bit creepy. Like you had this whole thing planned out for me, and I kind of fell into your plan. I don't like it so much when I think about it that way."

Nick stood still, facing the window. "You did what you did. I just gave you the opportunities. You could have said no." He turned to face her again. "You can say no now."

 _Okay, I'm confused again._ "Say no to what?"

"I would like to give you a promotion. I'd like you to be Coulson's replacement." He made a move to continue, but Darcy stood up.

"Wait, what? You want to make me _curator_? You want me to hobnob with donors and make decisions about acquisitions? I'd be terrible at that. I love what I'm doing _now_. I don't want to do anything else." She realized she was still holding the coffee cup, and rather than wave it around she placed it on the edge of the table. She could tell from the look on Nick's face that he was not expecting her to say no. "I'm sorry, Nick. Unless you're planning to fire me, I'm not going to take some other position. You're going to have to find someone else to be curator." She crossed her arms protectively.

Nick's nostrils flared, and he glared at her. But after a few seconds his shoulders fell, and he sighed and leaned back against the table. He's definitely disappointed, she can tell. And surprised. "I understand. But think about it. It would be a raise, and a good career move. We could reconfigure the post so you could still do some of your current work." Darcy is already shaking her head.

"Thank you, sir. Really, I'm flattered. And thanks for everything else too. But no, no thank you."

Nick nodded his head and turned around in a way that signaled the end of the conversation. It also reminded Darcy that she had some questions about the palimpsest that Nick might be able to help her with. _Like a consolation prize_

“Oh hey! Do you want to come to my office to see the latest consultation? I think you’ll like it, it’s pretty cool.”

“I suppose I can spare a moment,” Nick replied, following Darcy down the hall and waiting while she went into the restroom to wash her hands and then unlocked her office door. She started talking as they stepped into her office.

“It’s in pretty good condition, aside from the very beginning and the very end. It looks like the original binding was lost early on, and it was rebound sometime in the 15th century. And I don’t think it was trimmed when it was rebound, it has pretty wide margins. It’s a 13th century prayerbook, a breviary I think, although it’s a bit small, but it’s not fancy like a Book of Hours. I’m thinking it’s mid-13th but I’ll need to do more homework before I’m sure. And I’m pretty sure it’s English. Maria's note already said that, but Hilda of Whitby is included in the calendar, which seems like good evidence to me.” By this point they were in her office, and again Darcy slowly lifted the book out of the box and placed it on the foam supports. For a moment when she lifted it Darcy felt a twinge, somewhere deep inside her. Suddenly, strongly, she _did not want Nick to touch this book._

As suddenly as the feeling was there, it was gone. Darcy cleared her throat and hoped Nick hadn't noticed anything. “It’s, um, pretty basic, starts with a Calendar, then the Psalter, commemorations of saints I need to look at more closely, a few other things, ends with the Office of the Dead.” She opened the book in the middle, and was slowly turning the pages. Nick was standing behind her, silent.

She continued, “Although at first glance it appears to be a single hand, I’m pretty sure it’s two different hands. The form of the “a” is different in different parts of the manuscript, and the "g" too, I think. I need to do a more complete survey to figure which parts the two scribes were responsible for, if it's really two scribes and not just one scribe being inconsistent in his letter forms. Although, um, that's not actually what I'm supposed to be doing here." Technically Darcy was only responsible for sampling and coordinating analysis of the books, she wasn't required to read them although she usually did. _Oops_. "But anyway, that's not the most interesting thing. Here." Darcy located the bookmark and carefully opened the book fully. "It's a palimpsest."

For the first time since taking the book out, she turned to Nick. He was standing stock-still, eyes intent on the book. She could almost feel the tension flowing off his body; his hands were balled in fists, knuckles white. "Nick?" Frowning, he didn't respond. "Hey, Nick? Sir? Dr. Fury? You okay?"

Nick slowly shook his head, although clearing it. "Sorry, I'm fine." He turned his eye to hers. "Tell me what you know."

 _Is this Fury's Socratic Method? Or something else?_ She wasn't sure, but she _was_ sure that Nick knew something about this manuscript.

"Well, aside from what I've already told you, the really interesting thing is this palimpsest." She explained how she figured it was originally oriented, and how it was made to fit into this book. "It fits perfectly, so it was probably trimmed around the edges before it was bound in here, but I don't think any of the text has been cut away."

"Do you have any idea what it says?" Darcy shook her head. "No, I can just see some individual letters, enough to know that it's in Latin, and it's a lot earlier than the main text. My note says "11th century" but that's really conjecture until I can get it imaged. I'm supposed to go over there this afternoon to get all the stuff done. We're also doing analysis on the parchment." Glancing at her laptop, still open on the table, Darcy swore, "Oh shit, it's noon and I'm starving, I need to eat before I go over there. But first I _really_ want to show this last thing to you. It's really weird." Nick shifted forward on his feet, but made no move to bend down or touch the book. Darcy felt better for this, for some reason.

"Okay, so the palimpsest starts on folio 17, at the very start. The calendar covers folios one through twelve, so the psalter begins on folio 13. The page before the palimpsest - 16 verso - contains the beginning of Psalm 8. But then, at the top of folio 17, Psalm 6 starts again. That's followed by Psalm 31, then Psalm 37, then Psalm 50."

Darcy looked up at Nick. His expression was inscrutable. "Let me guess: then comes 101, 129 and 142. The Penitential Psalms." "Nick, _exactly_. Penitential psalms coming in the middle of a psalter? I've never heard of anything like it. And after the psalms, there are a couple of other texts. Lives of Saint Christopher and, um, the archangel Raphael? Pretty random. Would make Thor happy, though." She clears her throat. "Anyway, the palimpsest ends, and the next folio," she checks the number penciled on the top corner of the page, "folio 25? Just starts up in the middle of Psalm 8 again. Like, the palimpsest is being stored inside this other book, but it's not really a part of it, textually."

Nick was still staring at the book. Darcy was, to be honest, a bit freaked out. He would normally be next to her, hands on the book. He might even push her out of her chair. But although he was obviously _interested_ , he made no move to touch it. "Is there anything else?"

"Just that the handwriting's all the same. I mean, if it's one scribe all the way through, that scribe wrote the text over the palimpsest too. And if it's two or more scribes, the one that wrote this part also wrote some of the other parts, because the "a" that's here?" She pointed to the last page of the palimpsest, "It's on other pages, too. So even though the palimpsest wasn't originally conceived as part of this manuscript, textually, it still seems to be part of the plan for the book." She shook her head. "Kind of awesome, really. Completely original. I love it." It took her a moment to realize she'd been stroking the outside margin of the palimpsest with her thumb, and she wasn't sure how long she'd been doing it. Nick was still standing behind her. She turned around quickly in her seat, and as she glanced up at Nick she was shocked to see that he was glowing. _What the fuck._ She'd never seen an aura before, but she was pretty sure that's what it was: a very slight glow around his head and shoulders. Green. She blinked, and it was gone. He was staring at her intensely, searching her face.

"Are you alright, Darcy?"

She swallowed. "Yes, fine. Just. Just need a break, I think. I've had a busy morning. Need some food."

Nick had already turned towards the door. "I have work to do this afternoon, so I'm not sure if you'll see me again today. Just one thing." He turned his head back to look her in the eye. "Christopher and Raphael? Look them up. I do not think they are in there randomly."

"Yes, sir." Darcy answered, but he was already out the door. A moment later, she heard the door to his office swing shut with a bang.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have a beta, hooray! She's starting next chapter, and I may go back and edit chapters 1 and 2 depending on her feedback. I definitely need to clarify Loki's job, originally he was going to work in the library too, but I think he might be happier as a lecturer or professor in the English department. 
> 
> I'm finding that channeling existing characters is an interesting exercise. Already a couple of times in this chapter there were directions I was planning to go in, but then Darcy was like, "I'd never say that, what the hell?" so I had to change it. I'm a bit frightened about this moving forward (because, boy, does she have a lot coming at her soon!), but I'm also excited to see what happens!
> 
> Speaking of, was that who I think it was lurking in the hallway? WHY YES, YES IT WAS. Hmmmmmmmmmmmm.
> 
> Next chapter: Science brothers powers activate!
> 
> One more note: I've updated rating and tags, now rated Mature for future violence, and one major character death. That won't happen for several more chapters, but I think it's fair to let y'all know that's coming.
> 
> ***
> 
> The manuscript is based on [this one from the British Library](http://www.bl.uk/manuscripts/FullDisplay.aspx?index=19&ref=Add_MS_62925). Darcy's manuscript is much less fancy; imagine this one with the same contents, but without so much decoration.
> 
> And this one is similar to Darcy's binding: 


	3. Chapter 3

Darcy stood up from her chair, eyes still on the manuscript.

 _What the fuck was that. What just happened?_ She wanted to go back over everything from that morning, but she still had so much to do before the day was over. She also knew that mulling, wondering, or worrying wasn't going to get her anywhere, and she was pretty sure that she wasn't going to be able to get any information out of Nick. Considering his attitude, she was afraid to even ask. _Does he know this manuscript? Has he seen something like this before?_ Darcy knew that researching the books in for consultation wasn't really part of her job, but she was intensely curious. She felt something for this manuscript, some kind of... possessiveness? She was drawn to it. She wanted to know more about it.

Glancing at her laptop again, Darcy noticed that it was now 12:20, and she hadn't eaten since her 8am Pop Tarts. She closed the manuscript, placed it back in the clamshell and, eyeing the box's pristine condition, dug to the bottom of the box under the table and pulled out a pillowcase. Placing the clamshell inside, she slipped the makeshift package into her messenger bag, manipulating the contents so it lay flat at the bottom. Beanie on her head, bag over her shoulder, and coat and scarf draped over one arm, Darcy vacated her office aiming for the cafe in the library's basement. She figured she had 20 minutes to get lunch before she had to head across campus for her meetings in the engineering labs.

Darcy was checking out the pre-wrapped sandwiches in the deli case when a familiar voice near her ear sent a shiver up her spine. "Good afternoon, Miss Lewis. Would you care to join us for lunch?" She looked up to see Loki smirking down at her, a cup of soup in one hand and a bottle of Sprite in the other. Thor stood slightly behind him, holding an insulated lunch bag and looking like nothing less than an oversized long-haired Golden Retriever, all happy and shaggy.

Darcy straightened up. "Hey, guys. I was just trying to decide which sandwich is the least bad choice today, but they all look equally disgusting." She glanced at the cup in Loki's hand. "What're the soups today?" Loki answered with a sigh. "Today's options are either a chicken noodle soup, which I am fairly sure is from a can, or New England clam chowder, which may also be from a can but it's not too bad, and at least it's filling. That's what I'm having." Thor nodded, "I had the chowder last week. It's fine. The other one, not so much."

Deciding to take the path of least resistance, Darcy ordered a cup of chowder, taking a small bag of barbecue chips and a Coke to go along with it, and she joined Thor and Loki at a table in the middle of the cafe. She placed her bag next to her, on the table, where she could keep an eye on it. Loki was delicately blowing on the surface of his soup, and Thor was unpacking his lunch bag, laying out the contents in front of him: sandwich, baby carrots, apple, and a little plastic bundle that appeared to be...

"Thor, are those M&Ms wrapped in plastic wrap?" Asked Loki, with merriment and a hint of derision in his voice. Thor sniffed. "They are Skittles, actually, but the concept is the same. I like a bit of dessert with my lunch." Loki continued with his ribbing. "Well, I must say that I am glad Jane is taking such good care of you. I assume she packs your lunch for you?"

Thor took a bite of his sandwich, slowly chewed and swallowed, then turned to Darcy, pointedly ignoring Loki the entire time. "So, Darcy, I suppose you received the manuscript this morning? How is it looking, is it a palimpsest as you expected?" Loki listened in, disinterested and apparently slightly annoyed that Thor didn't rise to his bait.

Darcy swallowed and set down her spoon. "You know what? My morning was really weird and kind of unpleasant, and I really don't want to talk about it now. Let's talk about something else. Okay?"

Thor frowned. "I'm sorry your morning didn't go well. I know how excited you were about this one." Darcy shrugged and reached for a chip, while Loki piped up, "Oh now Thor, don't be disingenuous. You were excited too, always on the lookout for new or understudied texts." He grinned, taking a spoonful of soup into his mouth, and Thor looked embarrassed.

"THAT!" said Darcy loudly, almost yelling (loudly enough that the two students sitting in the table next to them gave her a dirty look). "That's what we can talk about!" The men both looked confused, and Loki questioned, "What, about how Thor wants to use you to find new research material?" "No, silly. About you two. I swear, if I didn't know better I'd think you were brothers." She picked up her spoon and pointed it at Thor. "You're like a big sweet teddy bear, and you – " she moved the spoon to level it at Loki – “every time I hang out with the two of you, you spend half the time insulting Thor, but it doesn't seem to bother him. I don't get it, but I want you to explain it to me in..." she glanced at her phone "ten minutes. 'Cause then I have to run. So, go!"

Thor stared at Darcy, and Loki stared at Thor. They spoke at the same time.

"Wait a minute, Thor, you haven't told her how we know each other..."

"Darcy, I know I've told you how Loki and I met..."

"Whoa, guys." She interrupted, "Slow down. Um, Thor first."

"Darcy, I apologize but I know that I told you about Loki, when he was in the process of being hired. I am certain." Darcy grimaced apologetically. "Sorry, big guy, but I wasn't exactly in my right mind around the time Loki was hired. I don't think I even registered his name until the third or fourth time we met." She glanced at the man in question. "Sorry, Loki."

Loki shrugged, but his face held a mischievous expression. "That is quite alright, Miss Lewis. I will try not to take it personally, I know that I am not the most memorable person." Darcy struggled to hold back a smile, _because right now 'not memorable' and 'Loki Laufeyson' do not work together in the same sentence_ , and shoved another spoonful of soup in her mouth to assist with the deceit. "Anyway, let us tell you the story of how Thor and Loki met and became, I believe you call it, Bee Eff Effs?" Another grin from him, another spoonful of soup for Darcy.

Thor swallowed a mouthful of carrot and began. "As you know, Darcy, I am from Minnesota, and my family is solid Norwegian on both sides." "With a name like 'Thor Odinson'? You're kidding." Darcy teased. Thor smiled at her, "Yes, but even in Minnesota a name like Thor Odinson stands out; my parents had an interesting sense of humor. Anyway, I attended a private high school that was aimed at descendants of immigrants from Norway, and which had strong ties to that country. This included a student exchange program, which I participated in my Junior year."

Loki wiped his mouth with a napkin and pushed his spoon into his soup. "I believe this is where I come in. My brother, Baldr, is a few years older than I am - the same age as Thor, as it happens. Baldr also participated in a student exchange program, and you can guess what happened next."

"Baldr was exchanged with Thor!" Darcy exclaimed. Thor nodded. "Yes. Baldr spent the winter in Minnesota with my family, and I spent the spring in Norway with his. And that's how Loki and I met."

Darcy scraped the bottom of the cup with her spoon, intent on getting every last bit of soup into her mouth. "So you guys have known each other for what, 15 years?" Loki nodded and glanced over at Thor. "More like 20, I think. It's a bit surprising that our friendship has lasted so long, considering the bumps early on."

"Oooo, interesting! What kind of bumps?" Darcy inquired, checking her phone, "You have six more minutes. Go!"

Thor shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Darcy, I was... popular. With the, um, ladies. And the men, too, I suppose although I didn't notice that so much." "What Thor _means_ , Darcy," Loki interrupted with a smirk, "is that he slept around Norway. Or at least our little corner of Norway." Darcy's eyebrows shot up, and her heart filled with the joy of discovery. "Oh my god, Thor! Were you a MANSLUT?? Does Jane know? Way to rock my world, man!" And she laughed so hard she thought she might fall out of her chair. Thor turned a deep shade of red, and Loki looked immensely pleased with himself. "Yes, Jane knows, but please don't mention it to her. And I wasn't _that_ bad," Thor grumbled. Loki replied, "No, I suppose you weren't bad, Thor. I never heard any complaints about your performance."

Darcy felt good, watching the two (as it turned out) old friends bantering. _I've been misreading their relationship. I can't believe I have been so wrapped up in my own issues that I didn't pay attention to what was right in front of me._

Loki continued the story. "I liked Thor from the first time we met. He was kind to me, even though I was definitely _not_ popular. I was different; I lacked the physical attributes that were valued in our area of the country, and I preferred reading to athletics, which was also thought to be a bit strange. I'd also had issues as a child, medical issues that some people judged me for even long after the fact. But Thor didn't judge me, and he always ensured I was included. We also had some shared interests," "The Middle Ages!" Thor cut in, around a mouthful of sandwich. Loki nodded, "Yes, and so we had things to talk about, and do together."

"I don't get it, then." Said Darcy, taking a sip of Coke. "What was the problem?"

Thor and Loki traded a meaningful glance. Loki pursed his lips, and Thor sighed. "Sif. Sif Sturluson." Darcy lifted an eyebrow. "Sif Sturluson? Seriously? That's a name?" "Darcy, now, be polite." Thor chided. "Loki, it turns out, was in love with her. Had been, I guess, for a while." Loki silently regarded his soda. "She developed a 'thing' for me, and I, um..." There was a very pregnant pause. "Fucked her. Thor, just say it. You fucked her." Darcy flinched at Loki's tone and his use of vulgarity. She didn't think she'd ever heard him swear before, _not like I was paying attention anyway._ Thor looked chagrined.

Loki sighed and leaned forward. "So, that put a bit of a damper on our friendship for a while. I had hoped that being a friend of Thor would make me more attractive to Sif, but it didn't work out that way." "To be fair, Loki," Thor looked his friend in the eye, "you didn't tell me how you felt about Sif until after I'd already bedded her. Had I known, I never would have done it. I never would have hurt you like that." Loki nodded and smiled at his friend. "I know that, of course. And I knew it then, too. I was just not used to opening up to people. I learned my lesson, and I have been fairly open with you since then, have I not?" Thor spared a glance at Darcy and grinned. "That you have, my friend."

Darcy felt her cheeks warm, stood up and started gathering her things. "Wow guys. I have learned so much today. I'm... I'm sorry that I didn't pay attention before, Thor. When you told me?" She shook her head. "So goddamn myopic." "Not myopic, Darcy," said Thor, "Just dealing with your own life. You have a right to that."

Throwing him a small smile, Darcy shrugged on her coat and pulled the strap of the bag over her head. "Thanks for that. Anyway, I really do have to run, guys, I have to be across campus in..." She checked her phone. _Shit!_ "Fifteen minutes! Wish me luck!" Loki stood up quickly. "Are you going over to Engineering?" At her answering nod, he continued, "I have business that way, may I walk with you? Please?" Darcy smiled again and pressed her lips together, trying not to notice the _really fucking super adorable_ hopeful expression on his face. "Well sure, why not. Let's motor!" They both waved goodbye to Thor as he popped the last piece of candy into his mouth and started pulling the detritus of his lunch into a small pile.

* * *

Darcy walked quickly, Loki easily keeping pace. They shared the bustling sidewalks with students rushing to class, everyone except Loki bundled up against the chill. As he had the previous Friday night, Loki wore his coat open, his head uncovered, and his scarf draped around his neck. Darcy glanced at him and chucked. "They breed them strong in Norway, huh?" Loki looked blank, then his lips quirked in understanding. "Yes, I suppose so. Stronger in Minnesota, however. Have you ever been to Minnesota?" Darcy shook her head. "Parts of Minnesota are, on average, colder than Norway in the winter. I once met a man from International Falls who wore shorts all winter long. Not even _I_ would do such a thing." Darcy kept her eyes straight ahead and tried not to think about how good it felt, just to walk down the sidewalk with him. But she couldn't help herself. _I enjoy his company. I enjoy this banter._

"So, um, Thor said that when you guys met you would talk about the Middle Ages? I didn't realize you were that interested. I mean, the way you tease Thor about it." Loki chuckled. "First of all, Miss Lewis, we did not actually talk about the Middle Ages so much as we were both involved in historical reenactment." Darcy stopped in her tracks, almost causing a collision with the girl walking behind her. She didn't notice. _This day, I am learning so much this day!_ "NO WAY!! Seriously?? You guys used to, what, dress up and hit each other with foam swords? Did you speak Old Norse? You are totally changing my view of Thor today." _Of you too._ She shook her head and starting moving again, and again Loki laughed. _That sounds nice_. "No Old Norse, I'm afraid, and little armor, but yes we wore historically accurate dress, learned accurate fighting skills, and we also practiced some historical crafts. My favorite was book making." Darcy nodded. "Oh yeah, that makes total sense. I'd wondered how you seem to know what I'm talking about when I go into manuscript mode. So you did calligraphy?" "I actually made a manuscript, the whole thing: writing, sewing, even illuminating - although I'm not very artistic. My mother still has it, in a closet somewhere." Darcy smiled at him again. _I've been doing an awful lot of that today, haven't I._ "That's totally awesome, Loki. I've never even thought about trying to make one myself. So, what about Thor, what was his favorite craft?"

Loki gave her a sideways glance. "Do you really want to know? Once you know, there is no going back." "When you put it that way, OHMYGOD YES. Please tell me." Loki grinned. "His favorite craft was... needlepoint." "NO FUCKING WAY!" Darcy threw her head back and laughed. Loki talked over her laughter. "Yes! He was good at it too, made some lovely small wall hangings and even some throw pillows." Darcy was having trouble breathing, but managed to get out, "Wait, you mean that thing on the wall in Jane and Thor's kitchen...?" "That, my dear Miss Lewis, is a teenage Thor original." Darcy howled once more, then forced it down, and she lifted her glasses and wiped tears out of her eyes. _Calm down, girl, he's going to think he's getting to you._

"So, Miss Lewis," Loki asked, as they paused at the street separating the arts and humanities side of campus from the science and engineering side, waiting for traffic to clear. "How did you become interested in medieval studies, and manuscripts? I believe that Jane said you were her intern several years ago. Were you a Physics major?" Darcy shook her head as they crossed the street. "No, not at all. I wasn't ever interested in the physical sciences. I was actually a Political Science major, I kind of got that internship by accident. Anyway, she introduced me to Nick Fury, and after my internship was over he hired me in the library. And then I was hooked." "So you owe your career to Dr. Fury?" Darcy pulled a face. "Yeah, don't remind me. I had that realization earlier today, it's one of the things from this morning that I've been trying not to think about." Loki regarded her curiously. "What do you mean?" "Well, it turns out he had a plan for me, from the first time we met. And I just went along with it, without even knowing it, and now I feel like I was manipulated. You know?" Loki looked thoughtful. "Maybe I do know, in a sense. I am sorry. Would you have made different choices, if you'd known?" Darcy gazed across the campus, taking in the stately stone buildings, and considered Loki's question. _I really love my job. I wouldn't want to do anything else, would I?_ She shrugged. "I don't know. I don't think so, but I also don't know what other opportunities could have presented themselves either, if I'd done things differently. ANYWAY, please, let's stop talking about me. How about you? Like, how did a Norwegian become an Americanist?"

Loki bit his bottom lip. "Would you believe that I got into American studies by way of medieval manuscripts?" Darcy's eyebrows drew together and she frowned. "Not really. How does that work?" Loki nodded. "It's true. Have you heard of Otto Ege?" Darcy had. "Sure, he's the guy who cut apart manuscripts and sold the leaves in bundles. He said it was to make manuscripts available to people who couldn't afford to buy a whole one, right? But then he made a lot of money doing it." Loki nodded again. "Yes, that's him. Thor told me about him, actually, and I found the idea of him fascinating." Darcy was flummoxed. "What, the idea that someone would destroy manuscripts to make a buck? Because he wasn't the first one, and he sure won't be the last. People are still breaking manuscripts. It's fucking horrible." They walked up a short flight of stone steps and skirted around a wooden bench. "It _is_ horrible," Loki conceded, "but I was fascinated by Ege's reasoning. Do you know about Scandinavia's historical attitudes towards manuscripts?" Darcy chuckled. "Loki, I just got whiplash. What? I mean, I know a bit, but what does that have to do with Ege?"

Loki ran a hand through his hair and grinned. _That damn smile again. What a smile._ "Give it time, it will make sense in a moment. What do you know about manuscripts in Scandinavia? And what might that have to do with Ege?" Darcy gathered her thoughts. "So, I don't know if this is your angle, but let me start talking and we'll see where it goes. I know that in the sixteenth and seventeenth centuries, the Scandinavian government had a program where they cut apart medieval manuscripts and used the pages as bindings for tax documents." Loki looked impressed. "Keep going." Darcy grinned. "Yeah? That's your angle? So, you come from a country with a history of using unneeded manuscripts as material for something they _do_ need, and you're presented with this guy who cuts apart manuscripts people might actually want in order to make more money than he would selling them whole. Yes?" Loki looked positively giddy. "Yes! God, you are so good." Darcy coughed and felt a blush blossoming on her cheeks. Loki didn't seem to notice, and he continued. "It wasn't just that, though, it was his attitude. He was unapologetic, he truly believed that it was worth destroying something beautiful if the pieces meant the essence of that thing would make it available to more people. And that attitude, when I first found out about Ege, I thought of as being particularly American. So democratic: manuscripts for the people! "

"So that's how you got interested in the USA? Because you thought of us as a country full of people just waiting to break manuscripts apart?" Darcy wanted to tease him, but she was also feeling a bit defensive. Loki raised an eyebrow. "Of course not. I can't imagine _you_ breaking a manuscript, unless you had a very good reason. Would you?" She looked over at him, and he returned her gaze intensely. "Um, no? Of course not. Are you nuts?" Loki looked away and shrugged. "Ege, he just seemed like such a strange individual, with this unique attitude. And of course the more I read about manuscript collecting in the States in the 19th and 20th century, the more I understood he was an outlier rather than an exemplar. But anyway, there is the answer to your question: How Loki became an Americanist."

They walked silently together for a few moments, their pace slowing as they approached the building housing Bruce Banner's lab. Darcy wanted to say something meaningful, to acknowledge that something special had passed between them over the past hour _because it had, hadn't it? Something is changing, isn't it?_ , but talk of manuscripts had brought Darcy's mind back to the morning, and she suddenly realized... "FUCK! Fuckity fuck fuck. Dammit." Loki looked at her, a slightly shocked expression on his face. "What happened? Are you alright?" She grimaced. "Arg, I just realized that I had a question that Thor totally could have answered in three seconds. That's okay, I'll write him an email or something later. Maybe I'll text him. Texting would be faster."

"What's the question? Maybe I can help." They turned up the final path before reaching the engineering building, and Darcy pulled her phone out of her coat pocket and discovered she still had a few minutes before she'd be late. "Hm, I don't know. Do you know anything about medieval saints?" The corners of Loki's mouth pulled into a slight frown. "A bit," he replied. "Depends on the saint, I suppose. Try me?"

"Okay, hold on." Darcy closed her eyes and gathered her thoughts. "Right. What do Saint Christopher and the archangel Raphael have to do with the Penitential Psalms? Or maybe what do they have in common with each other? I know about Saint Christopher, he had a dog's head and is supposed to have carried the Christ over the river when he was little, and travelers in the Middle Ages wore St. Christopher medals, to keep them safe. But I don't know anything about Raphael." Loki looked thoughtful. "I believe he's only mentioned in one place in the Bible, the Book of Tobit, and maybe one of the Gospels. Aside from that, I don't know." He looked at her innocently. "Have you tried Googling him?"

Darcy sighed and gazed into the sky, then started tapping away on her phone. "Fuck me. Just fuck me." She glanced at Loki to see him grinning at her. "Don't you say anything, smartass. Just wait a second." She opened a browser and searched for "Archangel Raphael." Wikipedia was the first hit, she clicked the link and quickly scanned the article. "You think you're so fucking smart, don't you Loki? Ah, here we are: Patronage, blah blah, 'patron of travelers, the blind, happy meetings, nurses, physicians, medical workers, matchmakers, Christian marriage, and Catholic studies. As a particular enemy of the devil, he was revered in Catholic Europe as a special protector of Catholic sailors'... Huh." _Travelers? Maybe?_ She glanced up at Loki, who looked slightly bemused. "Was that helpful?" Loki asked. Darcy smiled _again with the damn smiles_. "I think so. Thank you for your, um, suggestion. I gotta run, though. Thanks for lunch, see you later."

As Darcy turned towards the steps up to the door of the building, Loki reached out and took her right hand in his. For a moment she thought he was going to kiss it, but he just held it gently, lightly rubbing his thumb across the top of her hand. "Thank _you_ , Miss Lewis." "Darcy," she interrupted him. "Please, just call me Darcy." He lowered his head. "Thank you, Darcy. I hope to see you again soon." He squeezed her hand briefly and let it go. "See you later, Loki," she replied, and ran up the stairs and through the door into the cool, dark lobby beyond.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow so... what a dense chapter, eh? I am sorry for so much dialogue by way of exposition, but most of it is important for what happens later. I also wanted to have a chance for Loki and Darcy to spend some time alone together and investigate their mutual attraction (which they both know is there but which they are hesitant to do anything about. You're only seeing Darcy's side of things, but Loki has his own reasons which will show themselves later on). We'll have plenty of Science Bros next chapter!
> 
> I have a beta, and she is wonderful. I've gone back and made some slight mods to the first two chapters based on her feedback. Three cheers! 
> 
> Finally: Nerdstuff!
> 
> Otto Ege was a real dude. [Here's his wikipedia entry](https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Otto_Ege), and [here's a recently published book about him](http://www.amazon.com/Otto-Eges-Manuscripts-Manuscript-Collections/dp/0986029416) (which I haven't read). As far as I know, they way Loki describes his attitude is accurate. I have heard that Ege was actually a Socialist, and that colored his "manuscripts for the people" thinking, but I'm not certain. It doesn't really matter here, what matters more is how Loki interpreted Ege. 
> 
> Everything I know about historical Scandinavian attitudes towards manuscripts I know from [this video](http://vimeopro.com/dighum/research-student-seminars/video/90019975) (just the first few minutes).
> 
> Further note: I shared this story with my mother. She said, and I quote, "I read part of the first chapter, but NOTHING HAPPENED, so I stopped." Emphasis mine. So... yeah. I'm sorry, Mommy, and all y'all too. It's slow. I promise it will get more interesting! It will! Just a couple more chapters! Also, if I ever rewrite I guess I need to figure out how to inject some more interesting stuff earlier on. Jeez, Mom. Way to be a critic. Love you.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Darcy discovers a bit more about the palimpsest, and we meet the Science Brothers (plus one).

Darcy paused in the lobby of the Main Engineering building and stared down at her hand. She could still feel the ghost of Loki's thumb, soft and warm against it. _For a guy who refuses to button his coat he sure does have warm hands._ Hers were cold, and she rubbed them together as she ran up the stone staircase to the second floor. Bruce’s lab was at the end of the hall, but instead of going straight in she ducked into the Ladies’ Room to take a pee and wash her hands again. She washed her hands several times a day, determined to keep the manuscripts she touched free from oil and dirt. Once during a particularly busy period when they were first getting the program up and running, Darcy’d counted ten hand washings in a day. She’d then gone home and spent 15 minutes rubbing coconut oil into her hands. That was extreme, but on a day she was working with books she’d easily clock 4 or 5 washes. 

Darcy's mind wandered as she stood at the sink, lukewarm water running over her hands as she turned them one way, then the other. _Loki's nice. He's funny. Why have I been ignoring him? Duh, because he's hot. I don't_ want _to like him. Can't get hurt if you don't get close. Fuuuuuuck._ Realizing she'd been letting the water run just a bit too long, Darcy turned it off, dried her hands on a paper towel and pulled the beanie off her head, exposing slightly flattened waves of chestnut that flowed past her shoulders. She regarded herself in the mirror. Her cheeks were pink from the cold combined with the sudden warmth of the building's central heating. Despite her thoughts she was still smiling, blue eyes sparkling from behind her glasses. She forced the corners of her mouth down into a contrived frown, and it looked so silly she fell into a brief spell of giggling. _Control yourself, girl. You have work to do and people to deal with._ She fished a purple hair band out of her pocket and pulled her hair back into a low ponytail, then shoved the beanie into the pocket of her coat and headed to Bruce's lab.

Dr. Bruce Banner was a professor of materials and chemical engineering, with a specialization in conservation science for cultural heritage. He'd started his career at the Smithsonian Institution, but quickly discovered that he both missed teaching and didn't work well in large bureaucracies. His position at Culver allowed him to teach a couple of classes a semester and run his own research lab, through which he created new methods for analyzing a wide variety of materials. He specialized in historical materials, manuscripts of course but also textiles, ceramics, and metals. His job had the added benefit of allowing him to live and occasionally work with his close friend Tony Stark. Darcy understood that Bruce and Tony had met as kids, at the New Jersey Governor's School of Engineering and Technology. She kind of wondered why Tony'd bothered attending, as by the time he was a teenager he already held several patents. Tony'd had a wild time, partying off his earnings, and had only taken the position at Culver as a professor in mechanical engineering after he went on a bender and almost killed himself in a car accident. That had happened when he was 25 years old, and he had managed to spend the next 25 both alive and sober. Bruce and Tony were inseparable - chocolate and peanut butter, strawberries and cream, yin and yang - and rumor was that they shared everything. And by everything that meant _everything_ , which is why Jane had been gossiping about them on Friday night.

She pushed the door to the lab open, not bothering to knock. "Hey hey! Sorry I'm a few minutes late. Had to stop by the bathroom." She walked to a large black-topped island in the center of the room, placed her bag on the countertop and draped her coat and scarf on a stool. She called out, "You shouldn't leave your lab unlocked when you're not there, never know what kind of rabble might make themselves at home!" She heard a slight noise around the corner of the L-shaped room, where a small office was tucked away. Darcy smiled slightly to herself as Bruce and his postdoc, Betty Ross, came around the corner. Bruce was wearing a wrinkled light blue button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his elbows, jeans, and brown suede shoes. His glasses were balanced on the top of his head of curly salt & pepper hair, and he was holding a mug in both hands (featuring a photograph of Venus the Chimera Cat) containing what she supposed was herbal tea. His hands were, she noted, shaking slightly. Betty, on the other hand, looked confident and incredible. _As always_. Dark blonde hair in a shoulder-length bob, large brown eyes, and cheekbones that Darcy thought were to die for. She wore a lab coat open over a green wool dress and knee-high black boots.

"Hey, there you are," Darcy greeted them as she dug to the bottom of the bag for the manuscript. She glanced up again, as they smiled at her silently. "What? Why are you looking at me like that?" Bruce ducked his head and grinned and the two exchanged a meaningful glance. Betty responded to Darcy with a shrug. "You seem happy, walking right in and cracking jokes." Darcy huffed, pulling the clamshell out of the pillowcase. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. I've been happy before." She shrugged. "I'm just in a good mood today, I guess." Bruce cleared his throat and nudged Betty. "Show her the phone."

Betty held out an iPhone and Darcy hesitated, then took it out of her hand. A string of texts was visible on the screen. Darcy wasn't sure what to do. "Um..." "Just read them," Betty interrupted.

They were from Tony Stark. Starting at the top of the thread, this is what Darcy read:

12:55 - be down in a few

12:56 - dsl is on her way, put your clothes on!

12:56 - she has a friend. I see smiles

12:57 - he's cute, i'd hit that

12:57 - laughing smiling laughing smiling

12:58 - he's gonna kiss her hand!

12:58 - false alarm.

12:59 - hey i know him it's loco. thor's friend. HOT

12:59 - he's watching her go AWWWW

Darcy stared down at the phone, biting her lip. Betty and Bruce looked at her expectantly. "Okay guys, first? Does he really call me DSL?" Bruce blushed a violent shade of scarlet and Betty choked back a laugh and just nodded. Darcy shook her head. "Jesus Christ, I'm going to kill him. Okay, next? How did he see this? His office is on the back of the building, and his lab doesn't have windows." Bruce continued to blush and Betty laughed out loud. "The men's room on the third floor has a little window that looks out over the front door of the building." Darcy closed her eyes and held the phone out, and one of the others took it out of her hand. "Oh my god. Tony was spying on me from the men's room? That's creepy." She opened her eyes. By this point, Betty and Bruce were both grinning. Darcy elected to ignore them. _Let them ask questions if they want to, I'm not offering up anything_. "OK guys, let's get to work now. Where are the gloves?"

Darcy was relieved to find that no questions were immediately forthcoming. Bruce took a sip from his mug and set it on one of the counters that framed the room. The island was the space they used to take parchment samples, so it was important for it to remain clear and clean. While Bruce stood by, Betty went around to the side of the island and pulled out a box of nitrile gloves. She put on a pair of gloves and then pulled out a pair of foam book supports and a long tube of fabric filled with sand, a box containing small sheets of paper folded in half, a jar of small pieces of white eraser, a box of plastic test tubes with caps, a fine-tipped permanent marker, and yet another box, weighted down with sand and having a small hole in the top.

Pulling on a pair of gloves herself, Darcy assessed the items laid across the island. "Have you guys touched any of this stuff without gloves on?" "No," they answered in unison. Bruce continued, "We never do, I don't know why you always ask us that." She shrugged and pulled out three more pairs of gloves. "Habit, I guess. Ritual. Just want to make sure, I'm not interested in cross-contamination. Won't do to have your DNA mixed in." Darcy took the weighted box and pulled one of the test tubes out of its box. It already had a log number written on the side, but she added the date, writing it on the cap. Setting down the pen she stuck the test tube in the hole on the top of the weighted box and pulled the cap open. Then she turned back to the manuscript, still snug in its clamshell box.

She'd been putting off the moment where she had to open the box again. On one hand, she really wanted to get her hands on it again, to open it _and feel it, and smell it, and learn all its mysteries. What the hell?_ , but on the other hand she was unnerved by how it had felt to be in close proximity to it with Nick earlier. She was uncomfortable with the possessiveness she'd felt towards it, how she hadn't wanted him to get too close. And his reaction - knowledge, certainly, and something else, some tension. Was it fear? - had seriously creeped her out. _Please be okay, please be okay,_ she prayed silently as she opened the clamshell, Bruce peeking over her shoulder to get a better look.

She pulled the box open, placed one hand on the cover of the book, and let out a relieved breath. She could still feel the manuscript, feel it calling to her, but she didn't feel the possessiveness from earlier. _Thank god_. It would have been very uncomfortable otherwise.

Darcy stepped aside, turned to Betty and gestured to the manuscript. "Après vous, mon ami." It was their little tradition that Betty would move the books from their housings to the supports prior to sampling. Betty got a kick out of it, and it amused Darcy to see her so excited to touch the books. Bruce and Tony enjoyed their ritual, too, but they would use pretty much any excuse to watch Betty do anything. But just as she was wrapping her fingers around the manuscript, the door to the lab flew open and a Stark-shaped tornado blew in.

"What did I miss! Did I miss the big reveal? Has Darcy told you all about her new boyfriend yet?" He was dressed in typical Stark fashion: a black t-shirt, jeans, and black boots, his goatee sculpted to perfection. Scruffy chic. In one hand he carried a small bag of what appeared to be dried fruit. Darcy rolled her eyes while Bruce addressed him. "We were just getting started, Tony. And no, Darcy hasn't told us anything." Darcy shook her head. "Not at all, Tony. We are solidly in 'don't ask, don't tell' territory. And they didn't ask, so I didn't tell." She smirked at him. "They did show me your texts, though. Were you seriously spying on us from the Men's Room? And do you really call me DSL when I'm not around to kick your ass?" He smirked back, _doesn't even have the decency to pretend to be ashamed_. "I was, and I do, but only in texts. It's fewer letter than 'Darcy,' and even you must admit you have a luscious mouth. Own it, sister. On the other thing, I wouldn't say I was spying. Just glanced out the window and saw you, not really looking on purpose. Attractive couple like you two? Not afraid to admit I'll check that out." He paused and tossed a handful of fruit into his mouth, then held the bag out to her. "Blueberry?" She held up her gloved hands. "Really, Tony? Stay back, no food near the table." He shrugged and looked at Betty. "Blueberry?" She nodded and opened her mouth, and he popped one in, grinning at her as she chewed and swallowed.

Darcy shook her head as she turned back to the counter. "You guys. Come on, we need to do this quick so Tony and I can do the imaging." Darcy was hopeful that with some work they'd be able to read the undertext, and she might find some clue about what the heck was going on with it. Betty turned back as well and lifted the manuscript out of the clamshell, setting the book carefully on the supports. When she finished she took a little hop and punched the air, which made them all laugh. Tony had moved around to the other side of the island, where he leaned on the counter framing the opposite wall and continued to munch his dried berries. Bruce had reclaimed his mug and joined him, resting his head on Tony's shoulder. Betty ran one finger over the design on the cover. "This is nice. What is it? Another prayer book?" Darcy nodded as Betty moved over to give her space. "It's a breviary, I think. Late thirteenth century, but it has a secret. That's what we're looking at today." "A secret?" Tony raised an eyebrow, "Go on." Darcy opened the manuscript to the first folio of the palimpsest. "Put down your snack and come over here, take a look at this. It's a palimpsest."

A minute later all four of them were gathered around while Darcy pointed out the differences between the main manuscript and the palimpsest, including the quality of the parchment and the faint undertext. "So we're just taking samples for these four folios," Darcy explained as she turned the pages. "They're conjoined with the other four, so we'll be doing analysis on all four sheets. Can you hand me a piece of paper?" Betty passed it over, and Bruce asked, "So you think its sheep?" They had been keeping track of her guesses since they started the project, and although she'd improved over time her guesses were still only correct about 70% of the time. Darcy had a theory that the animal providing the parchment was less important than the preparation, but she didn't know enough about parchment creation to be able to test her theory. Nodding her head, Darcy used the tube of sand to hold the book open, then placed the piece of paper under the corner of the first page of the palimpsest. "I'm pretty sure, it's the right color and consistency. I'm positive it's not calf, anyway." As she spoke she took an eraser and pulled it down the surface of the parchment on the lower right-hand corner of the page, creating a small number of crumbs which she brushed onto the paper with a finger. She did this several times until she had enough crumbs on the paper to fill the test tube halfway, then she carefully tipped the contents of the paper into the tube. She would repeat the process for each folio, using a new pair of gloves, eraser and test tube for each, to avoid cross-contamination. Later, Bruce and Betty would treat the crumbs with chemicals to separate skin cells from the bits of eraser, and put the skin cells through a mass spectrometer, which would indicate the species of animal the parchment was made of. Because the eraser picked up traces of whatever was on the surface of the page, in addition to the cells of the parchment itself they would occasionally get little surprises in their results. Like the time the big stain across a page they had thought was water or maybe beer turned out the be cat urine.

It only took Darcy about three minutes to take each sample, not including the time to change her gloves. While Bruce retired to his office to work on a paper, Betty and Tony stuck around to chat. Tony had finished his fruit and was now drinking coffee from a Lil Bub mug. He was trying to get Darcy to talk about Loki. "Come on, I saw you out there. He was making eyes at you, and you weren't arguing. So spill." By now Darcy was working on the second folio, and she kept her eyes down while she worked the eraser and brushed the crumbs. She could sense Tony's frustration, he was bouncing up and down and gulping his coffee. Betty took a different tack. "It is really nice to see you with a smile, Darce. I mean, things have been tough for you, we know that. Steve..." Tony exhaled loudly and Darcy paused. "Steve did what he had to do," she said, turning to look Betty in the eye. "The heart wants what it wants, you know?" Tony grinned. "Yeah, we know a bit about that around here. But," he pointed at her, "that doesn't mean you have to like it." "However," countered Betty, "it also doesn't mean you have to let his choices ruin your life. For the short term, sure, but the long run? Your life is yours. You only have one, so live it." Darcy smiled sadly. "Guys, I appreciate what you're saying. And you're right, after Steve left I just kind of stopped. I mean, for example, this is the first real conversation we've had in what, more than two years?" She went back to stroking the page with the eraser. "It is, isn't it?" She glanced up to find Tony grinning at her. "Welcome back, little sister. We've missed you here in crazy town. Nice to talk to you about something other than foliation and peptides. Like hot guys. Come on, really, I'm dying over here."

Darcy filled the test tube, changed her gloves, and started on the third folio. She considered her words. "Well, you recognized him. You've met him?" They both nodded. Betty replied, "Yeah, a couple of times. Most recently at Jane and Thor's Christmas party. Which, given it was almost a year ago, wasn't actually very recently." "So, you know the basics. Norwegian, English prof. Really hot, kind of an ass. Although," she brushed some crumbs, "he's always been nice to _me_. Which I've found a bit unnerving." Betty nodded in understanding. "He likes you, and that makes you uncomfortable." "Yeah, something like that. I just haven't been ready to deal with it. But just recently, like in the last day recently, I'm feeling like maybe I'm ready?" Tony looked at her curiously. "So what happened?" He asked. She shrugged. "I talked to him, I guess. I mean, we've talked before. We played darts with Jane and Thor on Friday and walked most of the way home together. But today I found out a bit more about him. Maybe I just felt like opening up." Tony chuckled. "Yeah, open yourself right up to him. Might help you to relax. Maybe take a video?" Darcy finished her strokes and threw the used eraser at him. "Don't be so fucking rude, Tony. I'm so out of practice, you wouldn't want a video anyway. It would just be weird and awkward."

Tony set down his mug on the counter against the far wall, picked up the eraser off the floor where it had landed, and started toying with it as he started pacing. "You miss sex? I know I'd miss sex, if I had to go more than a few days without it. Years? Can't even imagine. I'd go insane, or start drinking again. Sex is _so_ much better than drinking, and it's unlikely to kill you if you do it too much. Although it's probably not safe to drive while you're having sex." While he talked Darcy changed her gloves for the fourth time and started on the final sample. "Steve and I had sex a lot, and it was good. I mean," she bit her lower lip, "I don't have anything to compare it to, but it was always satisfying. And Steve?" She glanced up to find both of her colleagues entranced, and Bruce had poked his head around the corner and was listening too. _Are they waiting for me to crack up? I almost never talk about Steve, and when I do I either freeze up of freak out. Let's get this subject changed._ "Jesus guys, never mind. Sex with Steve was _fine_ , and I like sex, and I'd like to have sex again, someday. Okay?" Tony pointed the eraser at her. "You get on that, young lady. From what I saw, Loko would be more than willing." "Loki," Betty corrected him, "and he seems like a nice guy. Could be something there, you know? It's worth thinking about, anyway. Once you're ready." Darcy nodded and tipped the last of the crumbs into the test tube, closed it, and pulled off her gloves. Betty stepped over and started putting the sampling materials away.

As Betty worked, Darcy put on a fresh pair of gloves, pulled open a drawer in the island and pulled out a very thin worn plastic cutting board and a box of razors. She reconfigured the manuscript so its back cover was lying flat on the counter, the foam that had been supporting it pushed off to one side. "Betty, can you help me with this? I just need to you hold this open while I cut." Although eraser crumbs were fine for collagen analysis, DNA analysis required a larger number of cells. Darcy harvested these by using a razor to cut a very narrow slice, no wider than a couple of hairs and a couple of inches long, from the outer edge of the folio. Technically this was invasive, and Darcy knew conservators who balked at the practice, but if done well the damage wasn't visible (and Darcy always did it well). It was detailed work, however, and demanded all her concentration, so Tony went upstairs to prepare the imaging set-up while Betty held the book open.

Thirty minutes later it was just after 2pm. All the gloves had been thrown in the trash, the sampling materials were back in the drawer, and Darcy was nursing a mug of strong, sweet coffee (her mug: Grumpy Cat). The manuscript was still sitting out on the table, and Darcy regarded it thoughtfully. _It knows I'm here. It wants me as much as I want it._ She was certain of it. But she was also confused. Betty, Bruce, and Tony, were incidental as far as the manuscript was concerned. They didn't notice the manuscript, any more than they ever noticed one, and she didn't think it noticed them, either. And she hadn't seen anything strange the entire time she'd been taking the samples. _No auras. I am okay with that._ She was waiting for Tony to come down to let her know he was ready for her, and she was getting anxious. Betty and Bruce were already at work treating the samples. She looked over to them. "You guys don't waste any time, do you?" Bruce chuckled as he squirted some fluid into a test tube. "We have time today, might as well get right on it. Should have collagen results by Wednesday. DNA takes longer, of course, couple weeks for that. That work for you?" Darcy nodded, eyes back on the manuscript. "Sure thing, no rush."

As she swallowed the last of her coffee, Tony popped his head in the door and told her to come on up. Darcy quickly put the book back in the clamshell and closed it up, then paused in shock. _I can't feel it. It's gone._ She opened the box, and immediately felt the now-familiar tug, the silent hum. Closed it again, and it was gone. _Weird. Is the box insulated?_ More confused then ever, but also excited, Darcy picked up the book and headed out the door. "Be back in a few hours!" she called to the other two. She'd return to the lab for her other things later.

By 4pm Tony and Darcy had taken images of all sixteen of the palimpsest folios. Darcy had taken comfort in the hum of the manuscript, and she'd left the book out when they finished, just so she could feel it as they worked. They were now seated side-by-side at the computer in the imaging lab experimenting with different algorithms to combine the images. Several images had been taken of each page, monochrome images taken under light ranging from ultraviolet to infrared, including all the visible colors in between – blue, green, yellow, orange, red --, and different algorithms produced different results. For the first time, she had a relatively clear view of the letters. As she was explaining to Tony, the script was older than she had originally thought. "I thought it looked like Caroline minuscule, but it's clearly Insular. I mean, look at the ascender on that 'd'." Tony glanced at it. "Yup. So, what does that mean?" She smiled. "It means it's early. Like, probably written before 850. Much earlier than I'd thought. It also means it's probably English. Maybe Irish, with a distant possibility it's from a monastery on the continent. I dunno, maybe I just want it to be English because it's part of this other manuscript. Anyway, it's awesome."

They continued, Darcy coaching Tony to get the best results, concentrating on the first few words of the palimpsest on folio 18, taking notes as they adjusted the images. "Just a bit more, a bit... there! I think I can see a few words. Um... 't' 'r' 'a' 'n' 's' something. 'o' 'c', maybe? Then 't'. No, that's an 'a'. _Damn Insular a._ 'Translatio'? Can you do that other thing again? Okay... yes, better. It's definitely 'translatio', and the next letters are 's' 'e' ... 'n', I think, 't' 'entio' ... no again that's 'a', then 'e'. Then 'p' 'o' ... 'tentiam', 'et', 'lapidem', then 'requiri'... that's gotta be a 't', 'requirit'." She looked down at her notes. "Okay, woah. That's wacky." Tony glanced at her. "It's all Greek to me, kiddo. What's wacky?" She bit her lower lip and pushed her glasses up with her left hand, rubbing her eyes briefly before looking back at her notes. "This sentence: 'translatio sententiae potentiam et lapidem requirit.' Assuming I've transcribed it correctly, it means something like 'the transfer of opinion requires power (or strength) and a stone'. Isn't that wacky?" Tony shrugged and chuckled. "So it's a magical text. You don't believe in magic, do you?" She shook her head vigorously. "Of course not, don't be ridiculous. It's just kind of a weird sentence, that's all. Not even sure what it means." She didn't notice Tony's small smile as he turned back to the monitor. The manuscript hummed at her, but she didn't get the sense that it was passing judgment. _Who says it's magic anyway? Could be something else. Gamma radiation or something. Radioactive manuscript, now that's healthy._

Darcy took a few minutes to glance at the rest of the page, and although she didn't take the time to read more words, she could see that whatever combination they had used was effective to bring them out. "This is great for this page. Let's take a look at the rest of the pages, Tony." He took them to the next page, and Darcy confirmed that the same combination would work for that one as well. When he turned to the next page, he swore loudly as Darcy cried out and stood up, knees pushing her chair back. "Oh, you piece of shit, fuck! Goddammit! Arg!" Aside from the ghost of the overtext from the prayerbook, and a smattering of faint, glowing points, the entire page was blank. Tony knitted his eyebrows as he started applying different algorithms. He pointed to the screen. "Look, there are traces of ink here, here, and over here. There was definitely writing on this page. But it's completely gone." Darcy sat back down and picked up her pencil. "Somebody really didn't want us to see that, I guess. Just scraped the hell out of it. Hold on." She did a quick calculation in her notebook. "This is folio 18 verso, so it's conjoin should be 23 recto. Can we skip to that and see if it's been wiped out too?" Tony complied, bringing up the requested image. The first several lines of the palimpsest were gone, but the last few were there. The same set of algorithms that worked on the previous folios rendered this one fairly legible; Darcy saw an instance of 'lapis', and also, she was pretty sure, 'sapientia' - _wisdom_.

Returning to folio 19 recto they moved slowly through the rest of the palimpsest images, Darcy looking just hard enough to make sure the text was legible. As they worked she saw several more instances of 'sententia', 'translatio' and 'transferro', 'potentiam' (and other words meaning 'power': 'potestas', which means something like 'authority', and 'vis', which to Darcy implied violence and force). It was pretty clear what the palimpsest text was about, at least. _But what does it mean to transfer an opinion? Is that even the right translation for 'sententiae'? And what kind of stone, or power, would you need to do it? And why am I wondering about this, since magic is bullshit anyway?_ They didn't come across any more completely obliterated pages, and by the time they finished it was 5:30 and Darcy was wiped.

She leaned back in her chair with her eyes closed whiled Tony loaded the data onto a hard drive for her to take with her. "So what's up with this next? You doing regular imaging on it?" Darcy nodded and yawned. "Yeah, tomorrow I'll drop it off in the digitization lab in the library and they'll take care of it. Wednesday I'll send it home. That reminds me, Maria used some courier service, so I need to ask her about how she wants it returned. I also need to let her know I received the book. Meant to do that this morning, but my god it's been a fucking crazy day." Tony nodded. "A good day, though. Nice to see you happy, kid. I like you." Darcy opened one eye and squinted it at him. "I like you too, Tony. You guys seem happy. You're good?" He stood up and stretched, then picked up her pencil and toyed with it, an enormous grin on his face. "Yeah, we're good. It's not entirely ethical, you know, given that Bruce is Betty's employer. And we wouldn't be the most popular people at the church potluck or the PTA, if we were into those kinds of things. But we're happy. We took a chance, and it's worked out so far." He sat back down, pulling his chair closer to her. "Take a chance with this guy, Darcy. Open up - kidding aside, I mean it. Could work, could not, but you'll never know unless you try." She straightened up and patted his knee. "Thanks, Uncle Tony. I'll think about it." He smiled at that, then glanced over at the manuscript still laying on the imaging bed. "You gonna put that away?"

"Yeah, I'd better." She stood up and walked over to it, touching it lightly with both hands. Tony came over and stood next to her. "You like it, don't you? I can tell the way you look at it." She nodded and swallowed. "I do. It's weird, I feel like... I don't know, like it wants me. Does that sound crazy?" She looked at him to gauge his response, but he looked unfazed. "Not really. There's lots of stuff about the world we don't understand. Maybe magic is real, maybe it's not, but there's definitely stuff that's unexplained. And this manuscript," he nodded down at it, "it's got that palimpsest in it. And we agree that's got some kind of spooky shit written in it. Maybe that's affecting you. Maybe it's haunted by a previous owner, who the fuck knows. Actually," he turned to her, "where is it from, originally, do you know?" "England, probably northern England. Why?" He shrugged and started pacing, still playing with her pencil. "What is that palimpsest, and why was it erased an put in that manuscript? Those are interesting questions. And it seems like knowing where it came from would be a step to take to answer them. Right?" Darcy sighed. "Yes, it would. I should have thought of that, damn, Tony." He grinned at her. "That's why I'm the genius, I have the best ideas." She was silent for a moment. Tony stopped grinning. "Hey, I know what you're thinking." "You do?" "Yeah, you're thinking that the only person in the world who can help you find out where this book is from is the same guy who broke your heart into a million shards and ruined your life forever. Am I right?" Steve had done his PhD in Art History, but in the field he was famous for his database of manuscript provenance. He'd spent years entering data from as many manuscript catalogs as he could, from medieval booklists through modern sales and library catalogs. If you had a manuscript and you didn't know what it was, Steve was the guy with the data to help you figure it out. When they'd been together, Darcy had been incredibly proud of it. These days, she just wished it was online so she could search it without contacting him.

Darcy knew, logically, that she should be freezing up right about now. But she wasn't. _Knowing about the manuscript is more important that freaking out about Steve._ She just smiled. "Yeah. I haven't talked to Steve in, well, you know how long it's been. I heard that he got a grant, though. To continue developing the database. Did you hear that Columbia's hired Coulson, too?" Tony shook his head. "No, hadn't heard that. Good for them! He's a pain in the ass, stick in the mud. Good riddance to him." "I guess so. I try not to have much to do with him, myself. D'oh!" She slapped her forehead. Tony dropped the pencil. "What now, girl? Another epiphany?" "No, I just keep forgetting things. I had Coulson's notebook this morning, I think I left it in Nick's office. When he offered to give me Coulson's job." Tony's eyes widened. "Seriously? You're going to be the next Coulson? Who is going to be you?" He started to bounce up and down on his feet. She shook her head vigorously. "No fucking way, dude. I love my job, I'm not going to do anything else. Nick's just going to have to find another curator, that's all." Tony visibly relaxed. "Thank goodness, it took me years to get you to this point, I don't want to have to train some other librarian."

At 6pm they all left the building together, the three scientists walking Darcy back to the library on their way home. She was glad for the company, walking by herself wasn't an issue but with the manuscript in her bag, she felt better not being alone. The department closed at six, so by the time Darcy got upstairs the door to the main door was locked. She let herself in and made her way to her office. The corridor was dark, both Fury's and Coulson's doors closed. Darcy let herself into her office, sat down at her desk, and was immediately presented with a conundrum. She normally kept consultation manuscripts in the library vault, but the vault was in the basement behind two locked doors, only one of which she had the key for. The other key would be with the building manager, and she wasn't even sure who was scheduled tonight. She was tired, and hungry, and really wanted to go home. _Goddammit, I haven't even had a chance to check my email. I need to check my email_. After a minute of thought, Darcy pulled the clamshell out of her bag (wrapped again in the pillowcase) and, hesitating briefly, she opened the bottom drawer of her file cabinet and slid it in. She thought about taking the manuscript out, just to feel it, but without the hum already there to encourage her, the desire for it just wasn't that strong.

Flipping open her laptop, Darcy navigated quickly to her email. _Just check, then I can go home._ One from Maria, asking if she'd received the manuscript. Darcy replied, confirming that she had, and asking how she preferred to have the book returned on Wednesday. Several listserv messages, a question from a colleague that she flagged for later, a couple from Jane and one for Thor that she promised silently to read later, and a message from Nick, with the subject heading "Out This Week". It was short, just to let her know that he'd been called out of town and expected to be out for the rest of the week. Coulson should be back tomorrow (he said), so there would be an administrator around if someone was needed. Darcy wasn't sure if this was good or bad news. She settled on "neutral". Finally, she went to the Columbia University website and searched for Steve Rogers' email address. With her mind on the manuscript in the drawer, she wrote him a very brief and professional email asking if she could call him the next day regarding a consultation ("I understand if you would rather not talk to me, but I would appreciate your assistance."). Finally, exhausted, Darcy gathered her things for the last time of the day, and headed home, looking forward to a relaxing evening of quiet reading with a soft kitty purring on her lap.

* * *

A phone rings.

"Hello."

"Hello, just checking in."

"Ah, good. I heard from your counterpart a few minutes ago. I understand she has the book."

"Yes, and analysis is underway."

"Very good. Does she seem affected by it, as far as you can tell?"

"No. In fact, she doesn't seem interested in it at all."

"That's what I want to hear. Your counterpart has visual and will be keeping an eye on things. If all goes as planned I expect to have it back by Wednesday afternoon."

"What do you need from me?"

"Nothing right now. Be on call, just in case.

"Okay. Talk to you later. Bye."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took much longer than I wanted it to, because instead of writing it I was playing with code.
> 
> That's not entirely true! I had a long lunch with my beta ([wildbluesky](http://archiveofourown.org/users/wildbluesky)) and I walked her through the entire story. We talked through a bunch of stuff (how can I get where I need to be? Does any of this actually make sense? Will people hate me when it's over?), and it was helpful but just took a while. We have agreed on a schedule, though! From here on out I'll be posting on WEDNESDAYS. Weekly, I hope. I have the entire week between Christmas and New Year off of work (huzzah!), and my son will be off visiting my ex, so I should be able to get ahead of things. The plot will be moving along from here on out so I'm excited to get to it.
> 
> In addition to thanking my lovely beta, I also need to thank an anonymous colleague who works in multispectral imaging, and who critiqued the paragraphs with Tony and Darcy checking the algorithms. His input kept me from error, so yay!
> 
> Nerdstuff:
> 
> Darcy complains about the script of the undertext, which is [Insular Script](http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Insular_script). It's beautiful, but it can be hard to read, particular the so-called "oc-style" a. Which does look like a ligature of 'o' and 'c', and I sometimes mistake it for a 't'. Here's an image from the [St. Chad's Gospels](https://lichfield.as.uky.edu/st-chad-gospels/features) on Wikipedia. The first two words are "Et factum", you can see how that 'a' might be confusing (and that last word, I'm not even sure what that is. Looks like 'a' and 't' and... 'a'? Doest that make sense? Any guesses?)  
> 
> 
>  
> 
> I found what I could on documentation of parchment sampling (have never done it myself, the thought terrifies me a bit, like I'd end up sneezing and getting my snot mixed in with the eraser crumbs). Here's a [video of sampling for collagen analysis (using the eraser method)](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=E8zVnTdA_9k), and [here's a relevant blog post](https://specialcollections.blog.lib.cam.ac.uk/?p=7653). The edge-cut practice with the razor blade I've heard about in discussion, but don't have anything I can link to. But I think as described, it's close to real life.
> 
> The lab that Bruce has built up is a smaller version of what they are doing at the [Smithsonian Institution Museum Conservation Institute](http://www.si.edu/mci/), which is where he used to work in this AU. I also recently heard about this EU project, which serves to bring these kinds of advanced analysis to smaller institutions: [CHARISMA](http://www.charismaproject.eu/).
> 
> I glossed over the actual imaging practice (because, urgh), but if you're curious [here's a nice little article about the multispectral imaging of the Codex Sinaiticus](http://codexsinaiticus.org/en/project/conservation_msi.aspx). 
> 
> Finally, I don't know for sure that mass spectronomy can recognize cat pee, but I think it would be awesome if it could.


	5. Chapter 5

Darcy dreamed about the manuscript. At least, that's what she assumed. It was the kind of dream that you forget immediately upon awakening, being left only with an impression. An impression of darkness and fear, but also wonder and a deep, deep longing.  _A dream about a palimpsest that is itself a palimpsest,_  thought Darcy groggily, dragging herself out of bed and into the shower. She'd had another dream too, and she recalled it as she rinsed shampoo out of her hair:  _Black hair and green eyes, warm hands and soft lips_. She leaned against the wall of the shower and allowed her body to respond to the dream, or the fantasy, or whatever it was. Warm water ran down her back as heat pooled low in her belly. After a few moments she turned the water to cold, wiping away her desire, or at least pushing it down to where she didn't have to think about it.

To all appearances, Tuesday started much as Monday had. Darcy walked to work, another crisp mid-November morning. Leaves crunching underfoot, sweet, hot coffee in contrast to the cool breeze. She entered the library by the back door, greeting other staff on her way in. Up the elevator, she unlocked the main door to the Rare Books department, and then her own office. She thought about the manuscript the entire time.  _I miss it. I_ need  _it. Can't wait to see it today_. The previous evening Darcy had tried to read a novel, cat in lap, but her mind was distracted and she only managed a few pages before she pulled out the hard drive that Tony left with her and started transcribing the palimpsest in earnest. It was slow going; even with the processing, the text was unclear in places and contained a lot of unfamiliar vocabulary. She'd managed to get through three pages before collapsing into bed at 2am.

Back in her office, Darcy was trying very hard not to think about how she'd have to return the manuscript to its owner in just one day.  _I'll worry about that when the time comes._  She set down her coffee, piled her bag and coat on the spare chair, and opened up her laptop to answer the emails left over from the day before. The digitization lab wouldn't be ready for the manuscript until 9am or so, so she had at least an hour with it before she had to give it up to them.  _No harm in taking it out, just to have it here. I wonder if it's missed me as much as I've missed it?_ She stopped short at that line of thought.  _That's fucked up. I should probably just leave it._  But she couldn't just leave it. She went to the file cabinet and opened the bottom drawer. The drawer was empty.

She closed it, then shut her eyes and counted to ten, slowly. Opening her eyes again, she glared at the face of the drawer, willing the manuscript to be there when she opened it. Gingerly, she reached out with a shaking hand. Two fingers grasped the handle and she pulled, holding her breath. Still, the drawer was empty. She shook her head and gave a short snort of laughter.  _Of course. It's in the other drawer._  She reached up, hand still shaking, and opened the second drawer in the small cabinet, which was full of hanging files. She pushed the files back and reached both hands in, pushing under the files all the way to the back of the drawer. The book wasn't there.

"Oh shit, oh fucking hell and  _shit_." Darcy's mind raced. She sat at her desk, worrying her thumbnail with her teeth, still staring at the cabinet. There was no way she'd put the book anywhere but there. She remembered slipping it into the bottom drawer. It couldn't just walk away, could it? So someone had come into her office and taken it. She stood up and walked slowly to the door. She examined the lock as closely as she could without touching it, thinking that the police might want to take fingerprints,  _oh fuck, the police!!!_ , but didn't notice any scratches or anything else odd about it. Both it and the department door had certainly been locked when she left, and they were locked when she came in. She looked around and her eyes landed on the door to the stairwell. She ran to it and pushed on the middle of the door, above the bar. It didn't budge.  _The windows don't open, and we're on the fourth floor anyway._  She trudged slowly back to her office, desperate to put off the inevitable. Lowering herself into her chair she continued staring into the middle distance, only being pulled out of her trance when a person appeared in the doorway.

"Good morning, Darcy, I thought I heard you out here. Darcy? Darcy, are you okay?" Her eyes snapped to his face and she sat up straight, pulling her thumb away from her mouth. Phil Coulson stood in the doorway, looking well put-together and comfortable in his suit as always, but concern was etched on his face. "Hey, Phil! Nice to see you back. Sorry, just had a shock." The curator took a step into her office. "I can tell, you look terrible. Do you need some water or something?" She shook her head in reply. "No water, thank you. I need help. Advice. Oh god, I'm in so much trouble." As she spoke, she could feel tears forming and a tickle in the back of her throat.  _Please, I don't want to cry in front of Phil._  He came in and knelt by her chair. "What happened? Do you want to tell me?"

"Manuscript." She swallowed, but she couldn't stop the tears. "Manuscript was in my drawer. Now it's gone." She kept her head down and looked at the floor while using the ends of her sleeves to wipe the tears from her eyes. Phil was silent. She looked up at him. The expression on his face was grim. "Let's get this straight. You had a manuscript." She nodded. "And you had it in a drawer." Nod again. She pointed at the file cabinet. "This one, the bottom drawer." "When did you put it there?" She cleared her throat. "Yesterday evening. About 6:40. Right before I left." He stood up, hands in the pockets of his trousers. "Now. Was this one of our manuscripts, or one of your consultations?" Darcy swallowed. "Consultation." Phil let out a deep sigh. "Whose manuscript is it?" Darcy shook her head. "I don't know, Phil. Some private owner. The job came through Maria." Phil pursed his lips and nodded.

He glanced around the room. "Is anything else missing?" Darcy gasped and jumped up. "Oh God, I didn't even think to check. Let me see..." She took several steps around the small office, checking shelves and tabletops. "Well, my laptop was here, where I left it. Video camera... right where it belongs, with the kit. Hard drives are accounted for." She turned back to him and shrugged. "That's everything anyone might want to take, I think. The expensive stuff." He looked satisfied with her answer, then stood for a moment just looking at her.

Darcy lowered herself back down in her chair and looked back up at him. "Am...am I in trouble?" He offered her a half smile. "I don't know. I keep manuscripts in my office overnight frequently even though I'm not supposed to." She raised her eyebrows in surprise and he finished his smile. "I know. Shocker. But you know, we don't expect people to come in and carry them off in the middle of the night." His smile turned into a frown. " _Somebody_ is going to be in trouble, anyway. First thing: call Maria. Have her tell the owner what's happened. Then we'll see what to do next."

Darcy was surprised. "Um, shouldn't we call the police? Or at least campus security? Someone's broken into my office, Phil!" He nodded as he replied, "I know. And they took a privately owned manuscript, belonging to someone we don't know, someone who may not want his or her ownership public." Taking in her shocked expression, Phil chuckled and shrugged. "I know, Darcy, but private owners can be a bit strange. So, let's touch base with Maria before we make any other calls."

Figuring it was better not to delay the inevitable, Darcy fished her cell phone out of her coat pocket and searched for Maria Hill's number. Considering a moment, she picked up her office phone and dialed the number.  _Probably better to make this call thoroughly official, in case it matters._  Although it was early, Maria answered on the second ring:

"Maria Hill Rare Books, how may I help you this morning?"

"Hey Maria, this is Darcy Lewis." In her head, her voice sounded strained. She wondered if Maria would be able to hear it.

"Good morning, Darcy. I received your message last night, glad to hear the manuscript arrived safely. What can I help you with this morning?"

Now that she had Maria on the phone, Darcy rather wished she'd taken a few minutes to decide what, exactly, she'd say to her. And to think about how Maria might react, and how she'd react to Maria's reaction.  _Too late now._  "Well, Maria, it's about the manuscript, actually." She bit her lip and looked to Phil for support. He just stood there next to her desk, hands still in his pockets, meeting her eyes with an inscrutable expression on his face. Maria was silent. "It's, um, it's gone missing."

There was momentary silence on the other end of the phone, followed by Maria's voice in an icy tone that made Darcy's hair stand on end.  _Man, she sure can be frightening_. "Excuse me? 'Gone missing'? Can you please explain what exactly you mean by that?"

Darcy sighed and closed her eyes. "Last night, I put it in a place, and this morning it wasn't there." She could hear Maria sigh on the other end of the phone, and a shuffling of papers.

"And where is this  _place_ , the place you put it last night?"

"Um, a drawer. In my office."

"Your office?" Maria sounded confused, but not quite so angry. "I would expect your office to be secure. It was locked, wasn't it?"

"Yes, of course my office door was locked. And the book was the only thing taken, all my tech is here."

Maria was silent for a moment. "Okay, Darcy. Here's what we'll do. I'm going to call the owner now, to see what they want to have happen. They might want to call the police, but I won't be surprised if they don't. I'll call you right back."

Darcy said goodbye, set the receiver down, and opened her eyes again to look back up at Phil. While she was on the phone, he'd moved her things off the spare chair and had replaced them with himself, leaning back with his legs crossed. He smirked at her.

"Phil, you look too comfortable. I'm probably going to lose my job over this, you know." She took her glasses off and rubbed her eyes.

"Darcy, it's very unlikely you'll lose your job over this. Maybe you'll get a lecture. Anyway, let's wait and see how the owner reacts. That will determine what happens next." With that, the phone rang.

"That was quick, I'm impressed." Darcy said as she pushed her glasses back onto her face and reached for the receiver. "Maria! What did they say?"

There was a moment of silence on the other end of the phone, and Darcy realized that whoever it was, it probably wasn't Maria Hill.  _Well, shit_. "Sorry, I'm sorry. I obviously thought you were someone else. This is Darcy Lewis, can I help you?"

There was another moment of silence, followed by a soft chuckle. "Darcy, it's Steve. Steve Rogers?"

As though she wouldn't know who Steve was. As often happened, Darcy's mouth started moving before her brain had a chance to catch up to what was going on. "Steve! Yes, hi! Sorry, I was expecting a call from Maria Hill. Um, obviously. Right. So, Steve. What can I do for you?" She heard him chuckle again, and it made her feel unbelievably ridiculous.

"Well, I'm calling to reply to the email you sent yesterday. I thought it would be simpler than just sending email. But it sounds like I caught you at a bad time."

"Yes. It is, actually. A bad time, I mean. Sorry. Can I call you back? In a bit? I really need to get off the phone."

"Sure, Darcy. Call back when you can. I'll be in my office all morning. Bye."

"Bye, Steve. Bye." Darcy let out a sound halfway between a laugh and a groan and slammed the phone receiver down on the cradle.

"Was that Steve Rogers?" Darcy looked up in surprise - she'd forgotten that Phil Coulson was sitting in the chair just across from her desk. He was still looking relaxed, and she had an urge to smack the smirk right off his face.

"Of course it was. Impeccable timing."

"What is Steve doing calling you? I didn't know you were on speaking terms."

Darcy sighed. "We aren't, not really, but I needed some information for this consultation. I emailed him yesterday asking for his assistance. I didn't expect him to call me." She shook her head and sighed again. "What a fucking morning."

A few seconds later, the phone rang again. Darcy eyed it suspiciously, then glanced at Phil. "When you assume, you make an ass out of you and me. Obviously." With that she picked up the receiver, and in her most professional voice, said, "This is Darcy Lewis, may I help you?"

"Darcy, it's Maria. I've spoken to the owner. They've asked that you not contact the police, or campus security. Are you comfortable with that?"

Darcy raised her eyebrows and looked across to Phil. "Phil, they don't want us to call the police. Okay?"

Phil nodded, as Maria said, "Is Phil there with you?"

"Yes, Phil is here. He came in just after I realized that the manuscript was gone."

"Okay, Darcy, can you put me on speaker phone? And close your office door, if it's open." Darcy gestured for Phil to close the door, and he did that as Darcy turned on speakerphone and set down the receiver.

Maria spoke first. "Phil, hi there. How are you doing?"

Phil chuckled and rubbed a hand across his forehead. "You know, I've been better. You?"

Maria laughed nervously. "You could say that. Alright, both of you, this is highly unusual. Unique, in my experience. I already mentioned that the owner doesn't want the police called in. They have some idea of who might have taken it, and prefer to handle it themselves. Darcy, you said nothing else was taken?" Darcy shook her head, "No, nothing. No sweet tech, just that book." Maria exhaled loudly. "Right. Phil, I'd recommend having the lock on her office door changed, just as a precaution, although I expect it doesn't really matter." Phil nodded at Darcy, and she spoke up. "Okay, so... what do I do now? Do they still want the results from the analysis?" Maria answered, "Yes, please. Send it to me as usual. Now, this is to be kept absolutely quiet. Does anyone else there, besides the two of you, know that the book was taken?"

"Nobody." Darcy replied. "Phil came in just a minute after, and we're alone up here." Darcy could hear relief in Maria's voice as she responded. "Good. Great. The official line is that the owner needed the book back immediately this morning, and someone came and collected it. Just about now."

Darcy looked across to Phil. He was frowning. She took a moment to respond to Maria. "Uhhh, Maria? Do you think it's necessary to have a cover story? Who's going to ask?"

She could almost hear the other woman shrugging and rolling her eyes on the other end of the phone. "I really don't know, Darcy. I'm sorry. This owner... they're a bit paranoid. With good reason, I suppose, considering the situation. Referred to it as, and I quote, 'a possible inside job.' Perhaps they don't want the person or persons they believe responsible to know about their suspicions? I have no idea. This is all a bit too cloak and dagger for me. Believe me, you're better off just getting this out of your hair. No longer your concern." She sighed. "So much trouble over a prayerbook."

Phil stood up. "Thank you, Maria. And please thank the owner for their understanding on our behalf. Let us know if there is anything else we can do to help." Darcy and Maria said their goodbyes, and Phil punched the disconnect button on the phone.

There was silence in Darcy's office. Finally Darcy looked up at Phil. He was still standing there, looking at her intensely. He hands were in his trouser pockets and he was nodding very slightly, as though filled with nervous energy. Darcy was fighting tears, and knew she was going to lose.

Phil looked at Darcy kindly. "Are you going to be okay? Do you need anything?" She shrugged and sniffled. "S'okay. Just a shock. It's a nice manuscript. Interesting, I mean. I hope they find it." Phil nodded. "Me too. But," he raised his eyebrows, "I am very glad it's not my problem. And you should be too." She attempted a smile and nodded. "Yeah, I am. Thanks."

Phil headed out the door, and Darcy began to make a mental to-do list that included canceling with the digitization lab, returning Steve's phone call (!!), and trying to ignore the pit of sadness in her gut.


End file.
